A Wild Goose Chase
by honeyyoushouldseemeinacrown666
Summary: Moriarty decides to play a game with Sherlock, a game which will end ep as life or death for dearest John. Poor Sherlock finds himself worrying over the loss of his friend and does all he can to rescue him. Then things take an interesting turn... definately Johnlock towards the end. Possible sequel story eventually.
1. Chapter one

**Authors note: okay, first of all a huge thankyou to anyone who can even be bothered to read this, frankly. i am now going to warn ahead, this is my first time writing this type of fic, as me and a freind wrote it as a RP and i have edited it. i played moriarty and some characters you will find later, and her sherlock. if anyone wants to read some better stuff, her account name is Adurna Skulblaka (i know, its a mouthful.) cheers, **  
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Moriarty heard the sound of the door creaking and smiled, waiting on the sofa for his...guest to arrive...

Sherlock stepped in, glancing around once before settling his gaze on Moriarty. His expression gave nothing away as he watched Jim, how was silently daring him to break the silence. Sherlock's lips pinched upwards in a tiny smile. He considered returning Moriarty's original greeting back on him, but... that just wasn't _Sherlock,_ so instead he closed the door behind him with a soft _click_, and tucked his hands into his pockets. Moriarty leaned back, sipping from his mug while staring at Sherlock. Sherlock's eyebrow rose. Judging by the lack of steam rising from the drink... "Cold? Can't say I share your taste." He strode over to his favourite armchair in the flat, taking off his scarf and coat to lay them over the back of it.

"you never did, but then we all have our," he pauses to look around the room, especially at the skull sitting innocently on the mantle piece "differences, don't we Sherly?"

"Life would be even more boring if we were all the same," Sherlock replied in a monotone. He went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, but made sure to keep his face half turned to Jim at all times; one could never be sure when it came to him. Jim chuckled at Sherlock's position and stood to look out of the window, his back to Sherlock but in view of a series of mirrors which led to him and the kitchen in general, obviously.

Once the kettle had boiled, Sherlock poured the water into his favourite cup and took a sip. He sighed softly. It was better when John made it, but it would do. He analysed Jim, trying to understand why he was in 221B. Whatever it was, he had the feeling that he would go along with it. He was, after all, very bored at the moment. Jim knew what Sherlock would be thinking and decided to have a little fun before explaining himself... "why do you think I'm hear, Sherly?"

"There could be any number of reasons," Sherlock murmured over his tea. "It's likely that you're here to try to play games with my mind, possibly threaten John to get me to do something, you could already have him somewhere." Sherlock paused to take a breath. "However, it's also just as likely that you're going to inform me of something, but whether that is good or bad news remains to be seen. I could go on, but I won't." He sniffed dismissively and brought his teacup up to his lips.

"oh, really? go on Sherly, _indulge_ me."

"I'd rather not. It's your turn to speak, Moriarty." To appear as if he didn't consider Jim a danger, Sherlock sat in his armchair, placed his teacup on the table, and folded his hands over his stomach. His head tilted to the side slightly as he waited to listen.

"oh Sherly, how do you find so many ways to disappoint me?" Jim sighed and turned around, not looking at Sherlock but just over his head.

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure you opinion on myself doesn't matter to me. I don't see why it should." Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly in thought and brought his hands up to his lips in his usual thinking pose. Jim raised an eyebrow, still staring unblinking above Sherlock

"then why do you try so hard to effect me opinion of you Sherly?"

"I don't do it on _purpose, _you are just easilyannoyed." ..._You are intriguing..._

"oh really? do you think I don't notice the way you- actually, there is no reason I should burst your little bubble of ignorance." Jim sat down opposite Sherlock, his sight still trained over Sherlock's head.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock leaned back, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall onto the arms of the chair. Jim's eyes flicked to Sherlock's face and he tutted. "why?" he muttered, sighing "why, every time I think I found something new to play with-"

"People aren't toys," Sherlock interjected sharply, irritated.

"aren't they?" Jim sounded curious as he spoke, like this was a new concept to him.

"No."_Well, some are, but that's not the point._ "You can't play with them and not expect consequences."

"huh, _consequences_. and what exactly _are_ these consequences?" Jim was now very amused with Sherlock's blundering.

"Every action has a consequence," Sherlock replied cryptically. His eyes flicked over to the skull, but it remained silent, offering no answers to this odd conversation. Jim chuckled,

"and that's something I never thought _you_, of all people, would say Sherly. What, exactly, are the consequences to _my_ actions, may I ask?" Sherlock fixed his gaze on Jim, his eyebrows rising in fake surprise. "I'm sure we'll find out someday. I may be incredibly talented when it comes to deductions, but even I can't tell the future."

"oh Sherly, you pet really has spoilt you. _mellowed_ you. not quite as sharp as you were, are you?"

"I'm still perfectl- _Pet?_ John is not my _pet_." Jim gave him a grin,

"no, of _course_ he isn't..." he shook his head, looking at the floor in amusement.

"I can see where that idea might have come from, but he isn't my _pet_. It's an absolutely ridiculous nickname for a person," Sherlock snorted. Moriarty stood, cup in hand, and stared over Sherlock's head, his face frozen in shock. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"What? Problem?" Moriarty carried on staring, not blinking, again, and slowly started to nod towards Sherlock, gesturing furiously without saying a word. Sherlock wasn't an idiot. He stood and went to stand beside Moriarty instead of just turning his back. One could never be too careful. He whispered into Jim's ear,

"What is it?" Jim ignored him and gestured about him even more. Sherlock began to get frustrated. "What?" Again Jim ignored him. Huffing in irritation, Sherlock turned to look. Instantly, Jim stopped and walked into the kitchen, whistling a tune.

"you," he half sang, "are getting slow Sherly!"

"How so?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes. This man... he was a challenge and, yes, that was all good fun, but it also annoyed Sherlock.

"exactly!" Jim said, coming in with another cold beverage.

"You're making no sense."

"no, I make complete sense, but apparently I have outsmarted you Sherly. soon, you will be _my_ pet."Sherlock laughed without humour.

"Please, I am nobody's _pet_."

"which is exactly why you are." Jim was getting bored now, he was getting sick of outsmarting Sherlock.

"Once again, that doesn't make sense. My comment cancels yours out." Sherlock strolled across the room to where his violin sat. He brushed his fingers over the strings lightly, enjoying the soft sounds they made.

"hmm, maybe this wont work after all, good bye Sherly..."

"You still haven't answered my question. Why - are - you – here?"

"well, to be fair Sherly I don't think your up to my little games any more..." he turned to wards the door

"I played along with the last one."

"yes, you were admirable Sherly, but as I say, John has mellowed you." he starts towards the door again. "John has _not _affected me." Sherlock almost reached out to grab Moriarty's arm. He was desperate for something, _anything_, to be interesting. "I am exactly the same as before I met him."

"oh I doubt that Sherly, but if you think your up to it..."

"Of course I'm up to it. I'm _Sherlock_," he added arrogantly.

"huh, well _that _I cannot deny..." Jim considered for a moment before deciding that he should give Sherlock a chance and reseating himself, taking a long sip of cold coffee.

"this is your last chance, are you sure you want to do this?" Sherlock picked up his violin and bow before sitting down. He plucked the strings idly before turning his attention to Jim. "Tell me what it is you have in mind."

"oh, we _are_ excited aren't we? well, if your sure, we are going to play a game. the rest I have already told you, you just have to see it."

_plink, plink, plink._ Sherlock let a few notes of the violin fade before answering. "Excited? You could say so. I suspected that it would be a game."

"isn't it always?"

"A valid point."

"well, have you worked out the details yet?"

"I'm thinking. Feel free to give me a hint, by the way, but don't ruin the whole puzzle." Sherlock leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes as he thought.

"now now, if you cannot work that out you definitely can not play the game"

"It's something to do with what you saw earlier..." Sherlock murmured. "Likely involving John; the past two games have..."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, a smile on his face. "Oh... I understand." He smirked at Jim. "You weren't just staring at the wall."

"obviously not, that would be strange"

"You were using phonetic sign language."


	2. Chapter 2

"thank god!" Jim rolled his eyes to show who Stupid he thought Sherlock was, "I didn't think you would get that. basically, I have taken someone. your job is to find who, how and why, simple really." again, he rolled his eyes, as if just explaining took up a lot of his strength.

_It's possibly John, but that would be obvious. Mrs. Hudson? Lestrade? Some random stranger?_ Sherlock smiled. "Interesting." "I suppose you are trying to guess who I've taken but I don't have a lot of time so I'll tell you, after I hear you guess."

"Guess? I don't _guess_. I make a calculated suggestion." Sherlock laid his violin over his knees, picking at the strings as he thought. "The most likely answer is John."

"really? even _I'm_ not _that_ predictable Sherly." Jim tutted mockingly.

"Exactly. It would be boring for both of us." Sherlock gratefully dismissed the thought with a blink.

"then why mention it?"

"Because it was a likely answer. John is my closest friend - my only friend. His absence would affect me more than anyone else."

"I suppose," Jim shrugged, slightly annoyed Sherlock had mentioned this; it was supposed to be a surprise. "and I _have_ taken John , but he isn't who your looking for, well, not yet anyway." he waved his hand dismissively, "I just took him to amuse me." Jim grinned at Sherlock, winking.

"And to distract me, too, I assume. I will be concerned for his welfare, so it will stop me from working at my maximum potential, even if it's slightly. Clever."

"I did not think he had such sentimental value, but you are right, I won't guarantee his safety and probably won't give him back in the _exact_ same state, but that's also just to occupy myself." The words 'not in the same state' made Sherlock's hands slip on the violin, so instead of producing a lovely note, it squeaked instead. He was glaring at the offending string when he answered Moriarty.

"Is the person you have taken - aside from John - someone I am relatively close to?" "oh, Sherlock, this surprises even me! you need a clue already? you are sooo _normal_." Jim looked at him, disgusted.

"I told you already, my concern for John's safety is making it difficult to think very clearly." Sherlock delicately altered the tuning of the violin.

"oh he really _has_ mellowed you! hmmm, maybe a little time apart would be good for you Sherly, I might have him for a while..." Jim chuckled deeply and gulped his coffee in one then rolled the cup across the floor so it landed at Sherlock's feet.

"Mellowed? No... I haven't changed." Sherlock considered playing the violin badly on purpose, just to be spiteful, but he refrained. Sherlock glanced up at Moriarty, his eyes like ice. "I do hope you'll respect what is mine."

"respect what's yours? what a primitive concept! we know each other better than-wait- John's yours? oh _Sherly_, I didn't know you too were..." Sherlock turned his glare on Moriarty, who was now texting on his mobile, a little flushed.

"Oh, for God's sake. You're reading into _that_ too?"

"calm down Sherly, your secret _isn't_ safe with me, in fact if you _must_ know I've told several people, but that isn't the matter at hand. _who have I taken_?"

"It couldn't be anyone. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade... _Anderson_," Sherlock made a face,**"****molly?"**

"no, someone far better"

"Someone far better..." Sherlock repeated in a whisper, frowning. "Hmm. This is a rather enjoyable puzzle, I'll admit..."

"well enjoy it faster or _I'll_ keep John." Moriarty was impatient, and stood to look out the window again.

"Oh, no, no, no. I'll finish this, _and _get John back." _Someone far better..._

"do you need a clue?" Sherlock wanted to snap at him with 'No, I don't, now goodbye!' but... John. John was probably in danger, and the likelihood of him being injured became more apparent the longer Sherlock took. So he simply stayed silent, unable to admit it, but unable to say no.

"I thought so. well ,the most best way of telling you is that we've both looked at who you think is him during this conversation."

"Helpful," Sherlock commented dryly. He cast his gaze around the room, plucking at the strings of the violin again. He froze when it rested on the skull, his fingers stilling and halting the music. Chuckling, Moriarty walked over to the skull and picked it up, idly tossing it from hand to hand,

"I thought you might have noticed. still, you got there _eventually_" he crushed the skull in his hand, splinters and dust falling to the carpet.

"So, you took the skull. I need to work out how and why? _Interesting_." Sherlock raised the violin to his chin and picked up the bow, preparing to actually play it properly. "I expect John to be in perfect condition when he is returned."

"well, lets just say you slip up, _I_ slip up. oh, by the way, I'm not going to just l_eave you alone_, I'm going to watch you dance." Moriarty grinned at Sherlock, winking mischievously.

"Then I hope you enjoy the music of the violin. It helps me to think." Sherlock placed the bow on the strings and began to play the piece he wrote when Irene 'died'. _Why would he be interested in the skull...? He's Moriarty. He has no problems with death. _Moriarty smiled and hummed the tune a few bars before Sherlock played them, the look on his face like he was remembering a fond trip to the orchestra. Sherlock narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He simply continued to play. _The how is simple. He could easily have done it while I was out on a case. _Moriarty half sang again, "Sherlock." Sherlock ended a note squeakily on purpose.

"What." He made it sound like a statement instead of a question.

"well, as you are taking _sooo_ long, I thought I would remind you of something."

"Then do so, and then be quiet so I can think again. If you're going to be present, you may as well be useful or silent."

"oh, I wouldn't say _useful_," he tilted his head "no, that would be _far _too easy, but I will say this: I didn't take the skull from your flat, or steal it at any other time."

"Then somebody else did it for you. John or Mrs. Hudson would be less conspicuous than anyone else."

"no,no,no, why on earth would I do that? so...pitiful." Moriarty's face contorted in mock disgust.

"Hmph." Sherlock began to play again, his brow furrowing in thought. Chuckling, Moriarty stood and walked towards Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock's eyes widened, then he scowled.

"What are you doing?"

"bored." Moriarty replied simply and walked in. Frowning, Sherlock stood and followed him, still playing the violin. Perhaps this was one of Moriarty's ways of giving him another subtle clue.

"When you said someone more... More intelligent? Considered to be higher? Hmm..." Sherlock was thinking aloud, really.

"sometimes you need to look back Sherly, not forward." Moriarty was out of sight. At this, Sherlock placed his violin and bow on his bed and closed his eyes. It was time to pay a visit to his Mind Palace. Jim's head popped out from under the bed to study Sherlock quickly before resuming its position. Sherlock thought back over the most recent important cases. _The cabbie. The Chinese antique fakers. Moriarty himself - but he'd already denied that, so... Irene. Baskerville. And Moriarty again._

Bored looking at Sherlock's discarded clothes under the bed, Moriarty slid out silently and lay across the mattress, studying Sherlock, who's eyes suddenly snapped open. While his Mind Palace hadn't given him any answers on the why, it _had _told him something.

"The skull was a fake from the beginning."

Moriarty laughed and rolled onto his back across Sherlock's pillows,

"huh, half way on that one Sherly, but how?"

"How was it a fake, how did I know, or how did you do it?" Sherlock replied, answering Moriarty's question with several of his own. He picked up his violin and bow again, placing it against his shoulder and resting the bow over the strings. Moriarty chuckled softly, "the first and third. how you worked it out is by no means infeasible" he rolled his eyes deeply at this point, laughing at Sherlock's stupidity "even our pet _John_ could do _that_." Sherlock's lips twitched into a half smile. "You mean _my_ John. He's not yours." He sighed and played a new tune, improvising as he went along, so a few notes were a bit off. Moriarty's chuckle grew into a laugh,

"no Sherly, if anything, he's _mine_. I _am_ the one who has him, after all."

"But he is _still_ mine. I don't remember him ever being loyal to you." He paused. "The skull was a fake... I know the skull. It's a friend. The marks on it weren't the same, if I recall. I would prove it to you, but you broke it."

"oh Sherly, you really need practice. it still _was_ a "friend", just a different one."

"Did you kill someone, perhaps, and remove their skull, then switch it with my one?" Moriarty grimaced,

"oh, how very droll Sherly, no, that would be far to laborious."

"Worth a try." The nickname 'Sherly' began to grate on his nerves, but he didn't mention it. Moriarty would only find it more entertaining if he brought it up.

"Stolen, then."

"wrong."

"Someone gave it to you."

"nope."

Sherlock made a particularly harsh sound with the violin, the shriek showing his irritation. "Not stolen, not a gift, not taken from a body..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: hey, just wanted to quickly say that you guys are more than free to share your questions or ideas through a PM or a review and i will get back to you, i'm always open to other's ideas! (no doubt they are better than mine anyway.) hope you enjoy, **

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"It could just as easily be a complete fake, given that Halloween has just gone by. It would be only too easy to get hold of one, but one of those wouldn't smash like that."

"naughty naughty, Sherly, John might have to pay the bill soon." Jim raised an eyebrow at Sherlock haughtily.

"Harm him, and there _will_ be consequences." Sherlock carefully placed his violin and bow on the bed, then paced back and forth, his hands forming his thinking pose again. Jim picked up the violin and started to play random chords with a gleeful smile,

"oh Sherly, are we back to consequences _again_?"

"Yes." Sherlock was frowning as he watched Jim with the violin, muttering under his breath.

"oh, is Sherly getting _angry_?" Jim's eyebrow shot up again, smiling even more.

"Nobody touches my violin. Not even John."

"I bet John _has_ touched it, just not when you were looking."

"I would notice."

"then I'm the first..."

"I doubt it." Because, obviously, Sherlock understood the innuendo too. Moriarty chuckled and ignored him, his playing getting quicker and quicker, forming a harmonic tune. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He continued to walk back and forth, hoping inspiration would strike, but... nothing. His mind was too distracted by the thought of John in danger.

"Sherly."

"What?" _Damn, I responded to 'Sherly'._

"unfortunately, you took to long." Sherlock's step faltered, and he turned to look at Moriarty, one eyebrow raised.

"don't worry, I haven't done anything _yet,_ I'll deal with him later, and I wouldn't just kill him would I, so carry on "thinking."" Moriarty rolled his eyes again at Sherlock's idiocy.

"Me visiting him is out of the question, obviously," Sherlock added dryly. _What could it be...? Why is the skull a fake...? Hmm..._

"want another clue Sherly?"

He sighed through his nose and kept his face turned away when he muttered, "I suppose." _John's safety over my pride. I hope you're happy, Dr. Watson. _Moriarty was singing, yet again,

"its going to cost you!" Moriarty tilted his head and grinned almost wildly at Sherlock.

"Goodness, you must be even colder than me if you're going to play it this way."

"hey, its not my fault. I did say you weren't ready, getting _normal_, but did you listen, _no..._" Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. _In order to help John, he'll have to be hurt... For God's sake. Not caring was so much EASIER._

"how do you think you're going to pay?"

"You want me to _pick_ his punishment? I was correct. You are colder than me. Congratulations." Sherlock rolled his eyes, covering up his panic.

"no no, _he_ isn't being punished further for your idiocy, _you are_."

"But he'll still suffer."

"yes, I _did_ say that earlier." Jim leaned forward slightly, grinning.

"I'd rather not speculate about my friend's pain while there are other things I could be doing."

"then don't." Sherlock stopped walking, running a hand through his hair again.

"Just give me a hint."

"You can't make a deduction if you don't have all the facts."

"ok, but are you willing to pay?"

"_Just give me the hint._"

"I need you to agree or it wouldn't be fair."

"Me asking you for the hint is me agreeing."

"I want to _hear_ it." Jim gave Sherlock another devilish grin. Sherlock took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I agree. Just give - me - the – hint."

"ok, I didn't steal, borrow, take or swap the skull. I haven't ever even been near your 'little pal'."

"I already **knew** that!" Sherlock scowled at the floor.

"think over what I've said, I've told you far more than you need if you just _think_."

"Obviously someone else- ... Was it the original skull anyway, and the whole fake part was simply a lie?" Jim frowned at him,

"no, why would I lie in my own game?"

"To mess with my mind, we all know you enjoy that."

"yes but to lie would be pointless, not any use of _intelligence_ in a lie." Jim raised and eyebrow slightly as he said intelligence, pointedly insulting Sherlock.

"Lies can get you anywhere, Jim." Sherlock turned his gaze on Moriarty, a slight frown on his face, but something burning in his eyes. While he didn't particularly _enjoy_ this possible plan... it could, after all, get him nowhere, contrary to his words about lies...

... it might help him get John back. Moriarty's eyebrow dropped as he stared back, the tune he was playing increasing in speed. Sherlock glanced down at the violin, his head tilting to one side.

"I admire the violin, as you probably know. Those who can make it sing instead of shriek are... talented." Sherlock was beginning to think that it was definitely a bad idea, but now that he'd started...

"hardly, it's just a matter of practice." Jim was puzzled by Sherlock's compliment, unsure what to say.

"But there still has to be some natural talent to it. There's a difference between making it talk and making it sing." Moriarty grunted, his eyes flashing as he realised what Sherlock was doing.

"But still, that's no excuse for taking _my_ violin." Sherlock reached forwards to pluck the violin from Jim's hands, and Jim let him, still staring. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Would you be prepared to have some other form of payment for information? Violin music, perhaps?" Sherlock kept his suggestion innocent on purpose. He didn't want to be the one to bring anything up. The idea of him even doing this - him, Sherlock Holmes for Christ sake, - disgusted him.

"I haven't told you the payment yet, Sherly." Sherlock stooped so he was eye to eye with Moriarty. "Then tell me."

"no."Sherlock smirked a little.

"Come now, Jim. Where's the harm in a little bit more information?"

"not so fun." Jim decided to play with him a bit. "that would make it less interesting."

"As you said before, everyone has their pressure point, a price they are willing to pay." Sherlock couldn't help a small smile when he turned Moriarty's words from the Reichenbach back on him.

"oh really?" Jim leaned forwards into Sherlock, whispering into Sherlock's ear,

"then what's mine?" Sherlock chuckled.

"me, its obvious."

"oh, really?" he chuckled,

"how did you work _that_ out?"

"The way you act around me. You always come back for more,Most criminals would have backed off and admitted defeat but you...You can't get enough of me."

"anything more...substantial?"

"You don't mind my proximity right now. In fact, you leaned into it. You're not afraid, not intimidated... you're enjoying it."

"and apparently not the only one."

"Of course not. Others seem to be affected as well. Irene Adler, for instance, but I don't reciprocate her affections."

"that isn't what I meant."

"You meant John, if I'm not mistaken? Or- no. Myself. You mean _I'm_ enjoying this as much as you?"

"maybe. maybe not."

"Perhaps I am. I won't deny that there's a certain danger to it, which everyone knows I find thrilling." Jim chuckled, causing Sherlock to raise an eyebrow. "Is this changing your mind at all? About giving me a little extra hint without harming John?"

"again, who mentioned John?"

"I was under the impression that, since you had him, you would be using him against me. But still, my first question still stands." Jim chuckled again.

"would you mind slipping your hand into my pocket?" Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"Why?" Jim merely raised his eyebrow suggestively. Sherlock sighed.

"Fine."

Feeling even more awkward, he slipped his hand in Jim's pocket. _No doubt Lestrade or John would be taking photos and such... Lestrade didn't miss the opportunity when I was drugged. _As Sherlock's hand went into Jim's pocket to retrieve some gum, Jim opened his mouth. Sherlock smirked and put his hand on Jim's shoulder.

" your still as susceptible as other human beings to my presence. I'm not ignorant enough to ignore the stares I receive, and we are equals. Surely the thought crosses your mind?"

he replied just as quietly. Jim chuckled and stuck his tongue out, grinning as Sherlock dropped a piece in Jim's mouth.

"Is it worth my while continuing this way, or am I just wasting my breath?"

"hmm, I think we will both find out soon." Jim breathed down Sherlock's neck, smirking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: hi again to any and everyone, sorry this one took a while but i had a bucket (for use of a better word) load of work to do at school, which i am still putting off, so i havn't had much time to edit my material. a usual big up to Alburna Skulbaka (please say i spelt that right) who is not only a better writer but also who helped me write this as an RP to begin with. please ask any questions or say your ideas in a review or PM, all hatred of me accepted if you dont like it!**

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"In what way? If this won't yield any results in helping me get John back..."

"does the game mean nothing?"

"It's not the game that I'm concerned about."

"and there we differ."

"Obviously. You live for games." Sherlock straightened as his back started to ache from bending over.

"and you for John."

"He is only part of it." Sherlock didn't deny it; what was the point? Jim was just as observant as him.

"and the rest?" "I live for the cases, too, not just for John." Moriarty blew a bubble which burst in Sherlock's face before leaving to go into the living room. Sherlock sighed and picked up his violin and bow again, his fingers running over the strings in a sort of apology for letting Moriarty play it. He took his time following Jim into the living room, closing his eyes and thinking while he did so. Sherlock played a few notes before finishing it with a flourish. He carefully returned his violin and bow to its rightful place to keep it safe. singing, yet again, Moriarty summoned Sherlock,

"Sherly!" He closed his eyes for a moment. He _detested_ that nickname.

"Yes, Jim?"

"is it time to move on yet or are you _still_ stuck?" He waved a hand, keeping his back to Jim.

"Just continue. Perhaps I will receive some insight if we do so."

"maybe. what next Sherly?" Sherlock turned to face him, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"It's your game. You tell me."

"you know what you have to do, find out the who, how and why. the rest as _all_ you Sherly." jim winked at Sherlock, grinning.

"Who: the skull. Why: to spite me, to show me that 'the man with the key is king', to prove yourself. And how..."

"wrong."

"Or did you want a little something to remember me by, since you couldn't have me?" Sherlock chuckled. Jim smiled and shook his head. his eyes suddenly became dark and ominous, and his voice came as a growl, "no."

"Don't worry, it hasn't affected my ego. John's inflated it enough with his compliments on my deductions."

"no, no, no." Moriarty had been ignoring Sherlock for some time now but had just in fact been given some worrying information.

"'No no no'? That couldn't have answered something I said... Something else has happened."

Moriarty got his phone out of his pocket and texted several people at once muttering furiously, "why am I _surrounded_ by idiots? she's and idiot, John's an idiot and now even _Seb_ makes mistakes? what is _wrong_ with the world..."

after a few minutes, he put the phone in his pocket again, sat in Sherlock's armchair put is face in his hands. Sherlock stared at him, his eyes flicking over him.

"Some thing's happened. Something big if you're calling Seb an idiot. Something to do with John, perhaps he managed to get one over on you; he _is_ an ex-soldier, so he has a tactical mind. As for the 'she', I can't say who 'she' is, but no doubt she works for you and 'she' also made a mistake."

"ah, Sherly, you and you little theories" he chuckles and shakes his head, staring out of the window, "I'm pleased to say John isn't involved."

"Good. But then why did you call him an idiot? To lead me astray? It's a good tactic."

"I called him an idiot" his voice was loud and gruff at this point,

"because he is a blithering, idiotic _normal_ human!" Moriarty raised both hands to his face again and recomposed himself.

"He's smarter than you think. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"no, it has nothing to do with you or your precious John."

_Could this be an indirect hint...? _

"Ah, but I think you'll find I can be quite helpful when I want to be."

"its only a small...complication, nothing to worry about." Jim turned his head round until he was facing Sherlock, giving him a huge grin.

"A complication for you or a complication for me?"

"depends how you look at it I suppose..."

"Ah, so it could be either? Interesting."

"to you maybe..." Jim sounded bitter, he was a little upset.

"so Sherly, where is it now?"

"Where is what?" he asked dully.

"oh dear Sherly, you do have a short attention span." Jim's own attention drifted slightly, "almost like a puppy. the skull.."

"I'm a little distracted, Moriarty. I don't know where it is, that wasn't one of your questions."

"wasn't it?" Moriarty raised an eyebrow.

"No. It was what, why, and how."

"okay, fine, so why?"

"I don't know!" he snapped.

"I don't know. Because you wanted to prove that you can get anywhere? You wanted to show that you can get others to do your work for you? Because you wanted to display how little you care for other human beings?"

"no need to snap Sherly, that wont do _any_ good." Moriarty took out his phone again and started to text. Sherlock paced back and forth again, ruffling his hair with both hands, as if by doing so he could shake the answer into his head.

"_You_ try being put under pressure, then see how that feels."

"do you really think I've never had a problem in _my_ life Sherly, I just don't let them get in the way."

"Either be useful, Moriarty, or be silent. I don't have time for your nonsense." _John, John, John, why can't you be more __**careful**__? _Moriarty's features became darker as he looked up,

"nonsense?"

"Yes. Nonsense. John is in danger, I have to think things through, and I can't do it if you're twittering away spouting _nonsense_," Moriarty added a few extra lines to his text loudly while staring at Sherlock and pressed send, grinning pointedly.

"What have you done now?"

"nothing _you_ need to know." Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"No doubt it was something _else_ to distract me from the task at hand."

"not you. I have things to deal with as well, S_herly_." Sherlock sighed and turned away, running a hand over his face in a tired motion. What he wouldn't give to have John safe in 221B, instead of where Moriarty was holding him, but there was only one way for that to happen...

"The skull was real all along. It wasn't a fake, but it wasn't _my _skull."

"and how did that happen?" How? It was a good question. Sherlock scanned the room, thoughtful. "You were here before me. It would have been a simple matter to switch them."

"wrong Sherly." Sherlock made a sound that was like a growl before pacing again. He crouched on the carpet to study the fragments skull, mostly for something to do, and besides, he hadn't looked at them closely yet. And... there it was.

_Everything fell into place._

_If only he'd looked sooner, he could've saved John the trouble..._

"_Oh_. there, did you finally notice?" Jim's eyebrows had shot up into his fringe as Sherlock examined the fragments.

"Yes. This..." Sherlock gestured at the pieces of the skull. As he had been staring at the pieces, it had all suddenly made sense: this couldn't be _his_ skull. He had seen the post mortem, this really _couldn't _be his skull.

"It isn't mine, this skull doesn't have those hairline fractures. It doesn't have any from 'the injury'. You know the rest from there." Sherlock stood, brushing off his jacket with a pleased look.

"I knew _that_, I wouldn't make it too hard for the _iccle Sherly_"

Sherlock was himself again, now that it was clear to him. "Now... John, if you please."

"Oh no, this isn't the end yet Sherly. In fact, this is only the first Act"


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, for God's sake..."

"why, what's wrong _now_ Sherly?"

"I got the who, the why and the how. That should be it."

"oh? what's the why?"

"You did it to see if you could get away with it. Just because you wanted to. You wanted to test yourself."

"huh, well, close enough Sherly. We've got more important things to do." he stood and walked to wards the door,

"not so stupid after all" he sang.

"Of course not. Just worried." Moriarty started to walk out the door and down the steps,

"good bye Sherly, I'll give your best to johnny boy." Sherlock grabbed the elbow of Moriarty's jacket, his eyes irritated.

"John," he reminded him.

"ah, John. huh, _Jawwn_." he rolled his eyes mockingly, "what about him?"

"I solved your puzzle. Give him back." Sherlock was agitated: _was he intending to keep John?_

"oh, that." he was talking loudly, his face about an inch from Sherlock's" I am sooo changeable!"

"Not this time, Jim," Sherlock growled, but Jim merely grinned and span back towards the door, so Sherlock tightened his hold on Jim's sleeve. "John. Now."

"Why would I want to give you him now? You needed _so_ much help anyway..."Jim grinned,

"the game's only just started, Sherly."

"Because I have solved the puzzle, that's what you asked for me to do.- Game?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, then sighed "I'll be willing to play along if you let me have someone else on my side."

"sure, go ahead. why not have Anderson?" Jim lifted his phone from his pocket and opened up Anderson's number, his finger hovering over the call button.

"Oh, God no!" Sherlock's features pulled into a shocked expression, horrified.

"I can't _stand _that man. You know full well that I meant John. It's not fair if it's just me against you _and_ all your people, is it?"

"obviously. the odds are stacked against you, but you forget I know about your homeless system, and obviously your contacts in the police give you a threat to use against me as well as a source of resources and information." Jim winked and attempted to pull away, Causing Sherlock to smirk. "Well remembered." He didn't release his grip.

"What now, Jim?"

"well, as you are so _needy,_" Moriarty rolled his eyes", _I_ will just have to help you and make my arrangements on the go."

"I'm not needy," he grumbled, ego bruised.

"do you want help or not?" Moriarty winked and turned to the door.

"I want _John_, but I suppose you will have to suffice." Sherlock was reluctant to accept Jim's proposal, but he had no choice; J_ohn_ had to come first.

"You're the way to get to him, anyway."

"do you know, Sherly," Jim said, half dragging Sherlock back up the stairs "I'm amazed you're this trusting. you are making this _so_ easy."

"I'm not trusting, I just - want - John – back. You have the information I need. Simple." Jim plopped into "Sherly's" armchair and put his hand in his pocket,

"how do you know I'm not gonna lie?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I can detect lies. And besides, _you_ said you wouldn't lie in _your_ game."he raised an eyebrow suggestively, daring Moriarty to contradict himself.

"that was then, I might if I want to, but then technically, I could have been lying then as well..."

"You're an insufferable fool," Sherlock sighed.

"now _that_ wasn't very nice." Moriarty sent yet another text, this time with a smirk on his face. A few seconds later, his phone bleeped and the smirk became a garish smile. "hey Sherly, I've got a present for you." he held the screen up for Sherlock to see.

"What?" On the screen was a graphic picture of John in his cell, tied up and bloody, most likely unconscious from the blows to his head, torso and legs.

"the incident from earlier _did_ involve John, but he wasn't being bad, Seb had gone too far. you _did _ask" Sherlock's stomach dropped.

"J-John..." His eyes widened, and he reached out a hand as if by doing so, he could reach John. The hand curled into a fist and dropped back to his side.

"Keep better control of your _pets_. And release John. _Now_."

"now now," Jim was grinning gleefully as he saw Sherlock's reaction,

"Only one thing can release John, Sherly, and that's you. Don't worry, I've made it easy for you, even _John_ could do it" Moriarty chuckled at his own joke.

"oh, no, of course he couldn't, I forgot..." Jim grinned again, but this time there was a morbid curl to his lips, staring into Sherlock's eyes, daring him to retaliate in some way. Sherlock desperately wanted to hit Jim, but he guessed that it was what he wanted. He took a deep breath and turned away, unable to look at the picture any longer.

"What do I need to do this time? Just locate him, or is there more to it?" Sherlock's hand covered his face as he tried to compose himself.

"oh no Sherly, I'm standing in for John remember? he doesn't know any more than you. think of this as one or your _important_ cases." Sherlock scoffed, hand dropping again to his side.

"Please, you could never replace John. But, since you're going to be this way..." Sherlock picked up his coat and scarf again, donning them roughly.

"Get ready. We're going out." Jim pulled his hand out of his pocket, a cigarette twisted between his fingers. he put the joint in his mouth and stood. Sherlock didn't wait for him; he strode down the stairs and out of 221B, glancing back and forth before heading left down the street. Jim followed, the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"Aha," Sherlock said quietly, approaching one of the members of his homeless network. He searched his pockets for a moment before offering him a note, which he took gratefully. Sherlock lowered his voice. "Track down John Watson. Meet back here."

the ragged man nodded and turned, limping slightly as he walked down the street. Sherlock smirked and turned on the spot, walking back the other way.

"Now... next..." After watching this, Jim pressed a speed dial on his phone and half skipped after Sherlock, exhilarated.

"What are you so happy about, aside from your game?" Sherlock eyed Jim's cigarette almost hungrily.

"nothing Sherly. by the way, I do not tolerate cheating. _you_ have to be the one to find John, not anyone else. they can help, but indirectly." Sherlock grimaced, running his fingers through his hair.

"You could have mentioned that. No chance of any hints, are there?" Sherlock glanced at Jim, trying to deduce John's whereabouts from any lingering dirt or scum on his clothes. Seeing nothing, he sighed.

"I doubt you were ever in the same place as him..." "of course I was, I put him there, _stupid_ _Sherlock_." Jim rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"_Hmph_. Normally you don't like to get your hands dirty, do you Jim?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Jim mockingly.

"this was special." Jim just shrugged, admitting his remote-ness openly.

"Right." Sherlock refocused his attention to saving John,

"He's in a cell... You said Seb was there. Let me see..." Sherlock glanced over Jim's clothes again, his brow furrowing with thought.

"Dust... some, that's unavoidable..."

"I've _changed, _Sherly."

"Of course. Obvious. Predictable... _Boring_." he flicked Jim an irritated expression.

"Oh no, far more interesting for me." Jim returned the look with another mischievous grin. Sherlock turned his attention to Jim's shoes. He didn't expect to find anything, but it was worth a try. Noticing this, Jim pretended to kick Sherlock in the face, but Sherlock didn't even flinch.

"Helpful," he commented dryly.

"You did give me a good look at the underside of your shoes, though."

Jim winked cheekily at him, kicking the floor.

"that was the point." he looked around, spinning in a circle,

"where now?"

"Scotland Yard. While they might be imbeciles, they can help."

"ha, using them already?" he started to do an impression of an ape in front of a passer bye,

"_stupid Sherlock..._"

"They're useful," he replied simply, continuing to walk. He glanced at the cigarette still in Jim's hand.

"Are you going to light that?" Sherlock chewed his bottom lip lightly, craving nicotine.

"maybe, I think I'll wait until I see you try to get _me_ past Lestrade first, though."

"Oh, I wasn't intending for you to come into Scotland Yard with me. I assume if you are captured John will suffer? I don't intend for him to be hurt any more."

"oh, do you need some _more_ help? since you are _sooo normal_ now," he rolled his eyes,

"I will get myself in. shouldn't be difficult..."

"Normal? No. I'm nowhere near normal." Sherlock paused. "In the picture, John was in a cell. He couldn't have been in the pool, where we first met, there aren't any cells there. The same goes for the hospital. Likely to be a prison, but also unlikely; too much trouble, but it would also make a point. _You can get anywhere_. Possibility of it being a warehouse, however, is much higher."

"hmm, maybe, but then maybe I chose an obvious place to confuse you, or am I double bluffing? or triple bluffing?" Jim chuckled loudly, "you think too much Sherly, too much and yet still not enough." Sherlock spluttered a chuckle,

"Or perhaps you just said all that so I would doubt myself."

"I guess we will never know, will we? what are you running to _Lestrade_ for anyway?" he spat out the name like it was a bug he had swallowed, face frozen in mock disgust.

"While he's not as intelligent as me, he's far smarter than Anderson, and a _useful_ ally will be helpful."

"ah, _that's_ what you're doing..."

"Of course." Sherlock narrowed his eyes,

"Are you _going_ to light your cigarette? Or even offer me one?" Jim tutted,

"_oh_? I didn't think you smoked."

"Now and again," he muttered.

"John's trying to get me to break the habit. I find smoking helps, however."

"how ironic!" Jim walked a little ahead, still with the unlit cigarette clamped between his lips, "hurry up Sherly." Sherlock stayed still.

"Ironic? How?"

"_oh, how normal you are_... John hates something you do which could help save his life, _stupid_ _Sherlock_." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It's a habit I can't kick without help, I'm afraid. One little thing like this won't make much difference, I abuse my body enough as it is, in John's opinion at least."

"huh, really? I will _have_ to ask him about that..." Sherlock shot an annoyed look at Jim.

"I don't eat. I find sleep boring. I've done drugs in the past. I smoke. Do keep your mind out of the gutter, won't you?"

"of course, now can we hurry up please Sherly?"

"Fine." Sherlock tucked his chin into his jacket and strode ahead quickly. Jim put his hands in his pockets and waltzed over, apparently now listening to a wireless headphone in his ear. Sherlock decided it would be best to ignore Jim's presence unless he was going to be helpful. He was grateful that Lestrade was so tolerant of him; he would be able to help, and then John would be back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: hey, sorry the chapters are getting longer, i just like to finish at a good place so please dont be annoyed, authough i some how doubt having more to read is an issue. every one is more than free to tell me any ideas, thoughts or critizisams (gawd i really can't spell today) you have through a review or just PM me! enjoy,  
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The detective continued as if Jim wasn't there as he strode after him, half dancing to the music but, of course, Sherlock couldn't help himself.

"You're incredibly annoying, you know?"

"oh really? I thought I was helping."

"Indirectly."

"helping or annoying?"

"You _are_ annoying, but you help indirectly."

"oh, how _educational_." as they turned the corner, Jim started to walk slower. Sherlock walked into Scotland Yard and weaved through the desks, searching for Lestrade's office. He continued to ignore Jim; he wasn't going to help the consulting criminal get into or out of the building, unless it guaranteed him the return of John. Jim followed, sending smirks to anyone who stared or gave them a strange look. Sherlock simply walked into Lestrade's office without even knocking. The other man looked up, about to complain, but when he saw Sherlock he simply rolled his eyes. This behaviour was normal for the detective. Jim strolled into the room, the freshly lit cigarette smoking dutifully from his lips, causing Sherlock to lean over to take a deep breath of it. He sighed then moved back into his own space.

"Sherlock," Lestrade began, frowning, then letting his face fall into a full on scowl,

"what the bloody hell is he doing here?"

"It appears that he's filling in for John." Sherlock glanced at Jim, the irritation clear in his eyes. "Coincidentally, he's also the reason I'm here." Jim grinned as Sherlock came closer and sent a wink to Lestrade's confused face. Sherlock looked disgusted by Moriarty. He looked away, clearly angered by his very presence.

"Why?" Lestrade asked simply. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, God... I suppose I can't complain, you're more intelligent than Anderson, at any rate. Jim here has John somewhere. I need your... _help," _Sherlock paused, painfully appreciating the irony, "to find him and rescue him."

"while I help as well."

"You haven't helped very much so far, have you?" Sherlock snarled. Lestrade seemed surprised by Sherlock's reaction, but he didn't comment on it.

"Sherlock, what can we do that you can't?"

"There are more of you. Albeit, some of you are imbeciles, but you'll have to do."

Jim laughed outright at this, not bothering to even attempt to hide his reaction,

"huh, Lestrade, it seems that _you_ are Sherly's brawn."

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered. Lestrade decided to ignore both of those statements. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his desk.

"Well, what have you got?"

"It's possible - in fact quite likely, - that John's in a warehouse. Jim has an image of him in a cell. While most would assume a prison, I find this to be unlikely; it would be a risky place to work from, correct, Jim?"

"one in use or a derelict?" Sherlock's eyes snapped open wide at this, his mind filling with possibilities,

"Oh. Clever. This changes things."

"so _normal..._" Jim tutted, drawing a large breath through the cigarette, aiming smoke at Lestrade's face, but Sherlock ignored this and continued,

"Lestrade, you'll be able to tell me this. I need you to find- Wait, no, never mind. I'll do it myself. Some help would be beneficial, though." Jim chuckled and started to inspect the office, rummaging through case files with the cigarette hanging it the corner of his mouth**.**

"Keep out of there!" Lestrade snapped.

"Sherlock," he added, giving Jim a pointed look. Sherlock grabbed hold of Jim's shoulder and pulled him back half-heartedly; His mind was on John. Jim just blew smoke in Sherlock's face and carried on fiddling through files as Sherlock breathed in the smoke, half of his mind glad for it, the other half flicking from thought to thought.

"Disused prisons in London. There are some within a convenient distance, correct?" He directed the question at both of them.

"correct." Sherlock nodded.

"And I'm going to hazard a guess at there being less than three; two if we're lucky, one if we're _very_ lucky - even though luck _isn't_ luck..."

"obviously, if luck was in anyway involved i would have calculated thin in advance."

"Exactly." Sherlock clapped his hands once.

"Lestrade, arra- Wait." He turned his face halfway towards Jim.

"Do I have to collect him myself?"

"_sooo stupid..."_ Jim muttered than spoke up while leafing through another file,

"yes, as I said before."

"Then I won't need any assistance from you, Lestrade. Thank you for standing in for John as the inspiration trigger." And, without another word, Sherlock turned on the spot and left Scotland Yard. Jim walked after him, smiling and giving the open mouthed Lestrade a wink, taking the file with him.

"You shouldn't have taken that," Sherlock muttered.

"And thank you for smoking, by the way."

"pleasure." Jim walked in front of Sherlock and span, blowing smoke into Sherlock's face, who paused to breathe in the smoke again, before shaking his head and walking on.

"Stop distracting me." He waved his arm by the road to hail a cab. Jim span right back behind him, winking at a rather stressed business man he had just mugged before climbing in after Sherlock, just as he was giving the address of the nearest disused prison - of course he knew the addresses, he'd made a point of reading up on them at one point; several other criminals had used them before - and sat back to wait for the cab to arrive. Jim settled next to Sherlock and blew smoke rings towards his face, grinning. Sherlock half wanted to breathe them in and half wanted to bat them away, because Jim was being annoying. Instead, he simply looked out of the window and tried to ignore them. Jim's grin widened and put some gum in his mouth, with the cigarette. Sherlock made a _tsk_ sound.

"Disgusting," he commented quietly.

"what?" Jim was perplexed.

"Chewing gum _with_ a cigarette. Mint and smoke. A disgusting combination."

"oh, _that_."

"Yes, _that_." Jim chuckled. Sherlock was glad when the cab halted. He paid the driver and got out. Without waiting for Jim, he began to walk the last few streets to the prison. Sherlock stopped outside the gates, his eyes flickering across the ground.

"Footprints," he muttered.

"Old. At least a few days, possibly a week." He almost glanced at Jim's shoes, but then he remembered that they had been changed as well. Jim half skipped after him, the cigarette in his mouth almost burnt to a stub. Sherlock peered at the gates.

"Opened recently, possibly because you or someone else entered, but it could just as easily be vandals..."

"well done Sherly, want me to show you around?"

"I could find my way around myself but, please," Sherlock said, sweeping his arm towards the gates,

"proceed." Jim grinned and swung open the crooked main door, which creaked ominously, and led Sherlock down a sequence of confusing corridors. Sherlock noted trivial things about the prison as they walked. Dust, the odd spots of blood, a few scratches or holes in the walls... clearly not a pleasant place. Jim danced down the corridors, getting faster and faster, running with the tempo of his music. Sherlock had to break into a run to keep up, but he didn't have to put as much effort into it; Instead of being clumsy and getting in the way, his long legs made it much easier on him. Moriarty continued to dance down winding stairs and more darker passages until he wheeled into a cell, spinning around. Sherlock skidded to a stop, almost running past. He walked back, breathing heavily. Despite being fairly fit, the run had tired him, especially when he'd been so stressed anyway.

Jim, still somehow breathing pretty steadily, span in the cell with his arms as wide as the grin on his face. In the centre there was a projector running a loop of something like image he had shown Sherlock on the wall, life size. Sherlock growled and actually kicked the wall, his coat flapping. He stalked over to Jim, his eyes flashing with anger. He opened his mouth, preparing to say something, but then he closed it again. Speechless, Sherlock began to walk back the way they'd come. It was clear that this prison wasn't in use, at all.

"going already, Sherly?" Sherlock stopped, keeping his back to Jim.

"Why should I stay?" He wasn't thinking clearly. Seeing the image again, life sized, had scrambled his thoughts.

"look around Sherly, look _closer_..."

Sherlock took a calming breath. It was to save John. He had to remember that. He turned back and walked into the room, pausing before studying the picture. It was just as repulsive as before.

... but life sized.

"got there yet Sherly?"

"It's life sized," he said simply.

"Other than that, I can see no difference. The room itself offers no clues that I can detect. Is the image meant to say that he _was_ here, or that he still _is_ here, perhaps?"

"wrong, its far more educational."

"far easier for you."

"_Educational?_ I'm afraid I don't see that."

"well, it teaches you more about videos..."

"How? It's an image! Images are not videos."

"do I really have to spell it out? John would get there faster than you." Sherlock sighed and went to inspect the projector. He could find nothing special about it. He turned his attention to the image instead.

"... this isn't an image." Jim imitated the sound of a drummer from a bad comedy, laughing garishly at his own joke.

"The image is on a loop. That, or it's an incredibly short piece of footage on a loop."

"close enough, this is from when you entered to when you left."

"From when I entered to when I left?"

"_That's good, tomorrow we can do shapes!_"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sherlock murmured, ignoring Jim's last sentence.

"'From when I entered to when I left'... just that length as a clip, do you mean?"

"yes."

"Ah." Sherlock studied the 'image', a slight frown on his face.

"And the cell itself... I should be able to identify the correct prison by that alone."

"yes, you _should,_ but you're to normal now." Sherlock smirked,

"I'm not normal. I never was. This is easy, almost _too_ easy. Come along, Jim; I know _exactly_ where I'm going."

"good, you know where we are going next then?"

"Of course." Sherlock glanced once more at the image, as if confirming what he knew, then began to walk away again.

"I think you'll find I've won now, Jim." Jim raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised,

"really?"

"Yes, Jim. I know where he is. He can't be in this building, the background of the picture isn't right. I've visited several other unused prisons before for other cases, and I know the one in the picture."

"then lets go." Jim shrugged and put a new cigarette in his mouth, throwing the empty pack on the floor casually. Sherlock strode out of the prison with a new sense of urgency in his step, as well as a triumphant smirk on his face. He had to lead the way back to the streets to call a cab, though. Jim chuckled quietly and followed, strolling slowly. They soon arrived and, for some reason, Sherlock opened the door _for_ Jim, his expression unreadable.

"After you." Jim shrugged and got in, sliding across to make room for Sherlock, who promptly sat down, closed the door and gave the cabbie the address. Jim tried not to stare at Sherlock too much, but his actions surprised him. A small smile kept tugging at the corner of Sherlock's lips as he stared out of the window. He was pleased. He'd finally worked it out, and with no prompting at the end either. Moriarty winded down the window and stared out, looking at their surroundings flashing by. Sherlock could see rain beginning to fall outside, but the thought didn't bother him. The cab started to slow down as it approached the prison, and Sherlock turned up his collar in preparation to head outside. Jim looked at him when he did this and laughed lightly before winding the window back up. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, one hand on the door handle.

"What?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: hey, just wanna say cheers to every and anyone who looks at this, we are at nearly 1000 views now, (authough as my dear, dear freind aldurna skalbaka keeps reminding me she has over 2 million...) so cyber hugs all round. please review if worthy,**

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"nothing Sherly." Jim climbed out; he didn't need to undo his seat belt as he hadn't put it on start with. Sherlock followed, tucking his chin into his scarf as he did so. He walked up to the gates of the second prison, glancing down at the path like he had at the first to study the ground. Jim strolled over and leaned against the wall, staring at Sherlock as he lit the cigarette in his mouth.

Sherlock smiled a little; while the impressions on the ground where faint, they indicated that someone had walked there. The wall here was much lower, so Sherlock simply took a running jump at it. His arms caught on the edge, and he hauled himself up to straddle the wall. He peered back down at Jim. "Coming?"

"hmmm, I'll catch you up."

"Fine, then." Sherlock dropped down onto the other side, landing easily like a cat. he jogged up to the door and easily got in; the door was hanging from the hinges, long broken. There was a long pause as he tried to decide where to go next, so he chose the most promising-looking corridor and took off down it at a ran. Meanwhile, Jim jumped the wall and walked around the building, taking a short cut. Sherlock checked each cell as he passed, becoming a little more frustrated at each empty one he saw. Jim jumped another low wall and leaned against the other side, now standing in the allotments for the prisoners.

Sherlock scowled and stopped to catch his breath. Instead of running aimlessly, he decided to observe.

_No distinguishing marks._

"For God's sake..."

Jim chuckled as he waited for Sherlock, absent-mindedly sending some texts as the cigarette burned between his lips.

As he passed one of the windows on the ground floor on the way to the door, Sherlock saw a figure outside. he sighed.

_Of course_.

He went out to join Jim, keeping his expression blank. Jim didn't look at Sherlock but simply held cigarette in his mouth and took a long draught.

"find anything?"

"No."

"shame. finished or have you got anywhere else to look?" Jim was a little upset how much he was helping Sherlock, but he didn't particularly want to kill John, however fun it might be, because then Sherlock would be no fun. still, if he got too dull...

"I didn't finish looking," he admitted.

"good." Jim did not want to indicate too much, he should be able to figure this out. Sherlock glanced around the area. He hadn't seen any marks _inside_ but _outside_... Footprints leading up to a shed. Good enough. Sherlock followed them and inspected it for a moment. It appeared to have been opened recently. It was something, at least. Jim followed and leaned against the door, standing right in front of Sherlock, who gave him an irritated look.

"Move out of the way." Jim stared into his eyes for a moment before moving to the side.

"allow me." he said flatly, yanking open the door for Sherlock.

"I'm perfectly capable of opening a _door_," Sherlock snapped. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the inside of the shed. Jim chuckled and swung inside the small room, standing very closely behind Sherlock, peeking over his shoulder. inside the walls where replaced with in one corner with rings screwed in to secure prisoners. there was a video camera in the centre and the room was covered in bloodstains and mud. Sherlock looked around slowly, eyes slightly wider than usual. "John was here," he murmured.

"Yep." Sherlock crouched beside one of the blood splatters; he touched it lightly. "Fairly fresh."

"Well done Sherly," he whispered into Sherlock's ear, blowing out smoke heavily,

"no need to check, its little Johnny's."

"Obviously." Sherlock stood again, straightening his coat.

"So you've moved him. Perhaps because I was getting too close, or maybe because I took too long, or needed too much help... Maybe all of the above. It's likely."

"Do you really want to know why he isn't here? Its not important to you really."

"Oh, please, go ahead. I would have figured it out soon anyway though."

"well, you _were_ there when I found out. Seb screwed up."

"_Tsk_. You should keep better control over your pets, Jim."

"You don't know why," Jim sighed, resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder, "Seb always was a little, well, _rough_." Sherlock almost brushed Jim off, but he would probably just perch there again anyway.

"As shown by the photograph. Did you need to move him to the hospital?"

"oh no," he tilted his face closer to Sherlock's,

"_that_ was intentional, it was what happened afterwards..." Horror made Sherlock's stomach twist; he tried in vain to lock the emotion away. "He wasn't killed," Sherlock said hoarsely, "that would ruin the game. I wouldn't play any more if you did that..."

"No, and if he _was_ than Seb would be here to take the _fall,_" he grinned at his own joke, "not me. no, john's just a little...indisposed." Jim shrugged, wide eyed as ever, "oh well..."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'll need more than that to play the game, Jim," Sherlock replied after clearing his throat.

"I can't make theories without all of the facts." Jim muttered "_stupid Sherlock"_ a few more times before answering,

"are you sure you want to know? you might be _distracted_."

"Just tell me, or give me another picture or whatever." Sherlock waved a hand and paced in the small space.

"I need to know all of the facts, I've told John this multiple times."

"well, I _am_ the new John, for a while at least, so...fine. a few hours after that picture was taken John came conscious and stressed out. He was chained to the wall here at the time, but he was _very_ rude to Sebastian. Sebby asked me if he could teach John a lesson, and you were being pathetic at the time, so I said yes, then he went too far. still, I think John will still keep all of his fingers and toes, apart from one, maybe two..." As he spoke Moriarty's eyes flicked from left to right, outlining his main points. Sherlock sighed briefly.

"Of course. _John, you idiot_... _One time you could have had a brain, you decided to be stupid_..."

"I know, he is becoming more like you every day..." Sherlock ignored that comment. He clapped his hands once and pivoted to face Jim. "Well? what's my clue to go on now? Another image, a sentence, what? I still need to locate John and rescue him, after all."

"Its all around you Sherly."

"Blood and chains, that's all I have to go on?"

"no, look down." Sherlock did.

"Mud."

"exactly." Sherlock took out a pocketknife and scraped some from the ground. He studied it, frowning.

"anything interesting?"

"Come along, Jim. We're going back to 221B. I need to analyse this, and I can't exactly take you to St. Bart's."

"you could..." Sherlock gave him a look.

"Is it necessary?"

"you tell me."

"You're the conductor of this game, not me." Sherlock was getting more and more frustrated.

"I'm only here to help, remember?"

"You know what? Fine. We'll go to St. Bart's. You can see Molly again, then," he added, smirking. Jim grinned,

"this should be fun."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to meet her 'gay ex-boyfriend'." Sherlock rolled his eyes and swept out of the shed and towards the prison wall, looking a bit like a giant bat.

"especially with her precious Sherlock." Jim half sang, putting out his cigarette on the wall as he jumped it.

"Please, _we_ would never be in a relationship." Sherlock climbed the wall with ease and leaped down onto the other side. Jim laughed as he walked ahead, approaching the outer wall.

"you will be surprised at what people can believe Sherly, I mean look at John." he jumped the second wall and walked briskly down the steps and then down the road, half dancing as he went. Sherlock rolled his eyes and followed.

"What about John? Have you been telling him lies, too?"

"No, no lies. In fact, we haven't spoken for a long time..."

"Good. I don't want him anywhere near you... after I rescue him, of course." Sherlock waved an arm to signal a cab.

"oh? what about before?" Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I can't exactly ensure that until I find him, can I?"

"oh, how quaint."

"I suppose." Sherlock got into the cab first this time, leaving Moriarty to get in by himself. This time, mainly to annoy Sherlock, Moriarty got into the front passenger seat. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "_Childish_. St. Bart's," he added, nodding at the cabbie.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: hey everyone, congrats to you all for hitting the 1000 views mark, i'm really proud and everything, and well done for surviving the 2012 apocolypse! where were you when we were ment to die anyway? i was in a RE class...:( please tell me in a review or PM!**

**(P.S, if i cant post another chapter before christmas, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!)**

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The cab driver looked from Sherlock to Jim, shook his head and started the engine.

"And quickly, if you don't mind. I'll pay extra." With that, Sherlock fell silent. Jim decided to annoy Sherlock,

"yes, quickly please, our friend is in hospital and it could be fatal, depending on how fast we get there. if we cant tell the doctors his information soon he'll die, very painfully." Sherlock's hands curled into fists, but he stayed silent. When they arrived Jim got out straight away, leaving Sherlock to pay. Sherlock handed over the money without fuss and went into the hospital. He knew his way around easily, and he found his way straight to the lab. Jim followed, being greeted by many stupid "ex co workers" and sending winks to lots of women, _and_ men.

Sherlock made a '_for God's sake_' face. He was grateful for the lab when they arrived, immediately setting up test tubes and various pieces of equipment. Molly was working in the corner when Sherlock entered, and immediately she left her work and rushed to his side, her heart fluttering at the sight of his fresh clean shaven face,

"h-hello Sherlock, d-do you need any help?" Sherlock didn't even spare her a glance.

"I'm fine, thank you." He dropped a piece of the mud into a test tube to mix it with a chemical. _Vegetation. _Sherlock wrote on a piece of paper. He put the test tube aside and glanced at the computer screen, which was attempting to identify something from the mud. Moriarty waltzed in and walked over to Sherlock, glancing at molly. After seeing she was in the room, he decided to annoy her, instantly becoming "gayer than the day is long" as you might say, giving Sherlock a long, loving look as he walked over. Molly saw the door open, but only glanced up before looking back at Sherlock, then she realised- it was him. _him_. She wasn't sure what to think of this man, they _had_ once been together after all, but what she had read about him, as well as what Sherlock was always muttering made her hate him, and the look he was giving Sherlock made her _despise_ him.

Sherlock completely ignored the look; he was too interested in his work.

"Hmm. Asphalt. Vegetation and asphalt... Common in the centre of London, wouldn't surprise me... But there's more..." The computer beeped, alerting Sherlock. He frowned. "Vegetation, asphalt and... bleach. cleaning products?" Jim ran a finger down Sherlock's arm absent mindedly, causing molly to wince,

"really? What do you think that means?" Sherlock jerked his arm away, narrowing his eyes at Jim. He didn't realise that it probably looked like a '_not now!_' look to Molly. Molly stormed off, slamming the door as she left. Moriarty laughed,

"I was right, that _was_ fun..." Sherlock frowned.

"I don't understa- Oh. Jealousy. Right." He rolled his eyes.

"how predictable. No point correcting her, John's more important." Sherlock began to think. _Where did those three ingredients come together? _Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"She should move on, I have no interest in her. I gave her the same advice as you, you know."

"and what was that?"

"That she should break it off now and save herself the pain."

"so it started?" Jim raised an eyebrow jauntily.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. _She_ thinks that there's a possibility of something."

"ah, how stupid." Molly came back in after calming down, the pretence being that she was getting tea. Sherlock glanced over, raising an eyebrow.

"You've changed your make-up. Barely noticeable, but it's been modified." Without saying anything else, he turned back to his work. Moriarty chuckled and leaned closer over him as molly put down Sherlock's tea and went straight back to her work, furious. Sherlock ignored it. He wasn't thirsty, but he didn't say anything about it. He also ignored Moriarty.

"nearly done yet Sherly?" Molly made a _humph_ noise before continuing. Sherlock pushed his chair back angrily, the legs of the chair squeaking harshly. "Cleaning products... _cleaning products..._" Moriarty slid into Sherlock's chair and looked at him thoughtfully. Sherlock paced back and forth, clapping his hands and placing his fingers against his lips. Moriarty tilted his head on its side.

"need help?" He stayed silent. If he asked, John would be injured further... _could his body take any more suffering?_

"Sherly."

"What?" he snapped.

"no need to snap..." Moriarty began to text again, grinning mercilessly. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"My apologies. What did you want to ask." It was clearly killing him to be polite.

"I don't mind helping this time, John does have limited use and _he_ would help, so I should too."

"Then please, go ahead."

"you'll want to think of who uses cleaning products."

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock answered immediately, mind racing through several possibilities at once, immediately dismissing some while placing others in his mind palace for later contemplation.

"exactly."

"But she wouldn't do anything to harm John. If anything, she would protect him."

"so? Why does that matter?"

"To 221B." Sherlock stood and swept towards the door. He paused beside Molly, though.

"Thanks for the tea, but I don't have time to stay and drink it." Like at Christmas, he swiftly kissed her on the cheek before leaving. Molly flushed red as Sherlock came close and was speechless as he kissed her, only mumbling a _"th-thats okay, Sherlock..."_ once Moriarty had broken the spell with a saucy wink over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Another cab... I'll be bankrupt by the end of this, Jim."

"oh come on, we both know _that_ inst true!" Jim laughed loudly, opening the main door for Sherlock.

"Well, not _really_." Sherlock smirked slightly as he passed through the door.

"I'd ask for some form of payment, but John will suffice."

"oh, now this is new. _payment_? since when did the oh-so-mighty _Sherlock Holmes_ ask to be paid?"

"Lestrade insists on it sometimes when I solve some of his cases. I _do_ need to keep up my half of the rent somehow." Sherlock waited for a cab on the side of the road impatiently.

"do you want me to take care of the cab problem Sherly?"

"I'm perfectly fine about it, no need."

"oh, are you sure? I don't wish to impose on you financially..." Jim's voice was dripping in sarcasm.

"It's fine, it's only a small amount of money from here to 221B in any case." Sherlock got into the cab, leaving the door open for Jim.

"what about later?"

"I don't need your help, Jim, not in this situation anyway..."

"fine, fine. don t say I didn't mention it though..."

"I won't." Sherlock tapped his foot on the car's carpet floor impatiently as the cab drove along. Moriarty started to listen to his wireless headphones again. Sherlock had to admit to himself, he was relieved to see 221B again, It had become a comfortable home for him. He leaped out of the cab, Jim would have to pay this time, he never said he wouldn't trick his way into getting Jim to pay. Jim laughed and leaned forward, mentioned a name to the driver and got out. he didn't carry cash. Never needed to.

As soon as he set foot in 221B, Sherlock opened his mouth to call for Mrs. Hudson, but he quickly shut it again. Perhaps it would be best to inspect himself, or wait for Jim to give some sort of direction. Jim strolled up the steps and sat on the handrail, waiting patiently.

Sherlock decided to step into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen before he called for either of them. Having known her for a long time, he knew where her cleaning products were; he crouched down to open the cupboard under the sink and searched through them, his brow furrowed in thought.

"It could be any of these..." Sherlock murmured, staring at the labels. "More likely to be a floor cleaner since it was found in some mud." _Perhaps the kidnapper went into the flat's kitchen... in that case, Mrs. Hudson uses this particular cleaning product for our kitchen's floor._ Sherlock selected one of the bottles and put it to the side. Jim heard Sherlock bumbling and waltzed -literally- into the tiny room, spinning slightly.

"how's it going?" In answer, he simply picked up the bottle he'd chosen and placed it on the counter. "Mrs. Hudson uses this product on the floor of the kitchen in the flat. It's probable that John was making tea when he was kidnapped - he has a habit of drinking far too much of it."

"hmmm, and apt deduction. where do you want to go?"

"Upstairs." Sherlock didn't explain his thoughts; he simply brushed past Moriarty and went up the stairs two at a time. Jim skipped after him and resumed his original position in Sherlock's chair, picking up his abandoned coffee and lighting another cigarette. Sherlock went straight to the kitchen. He bent over to look at the floor quickly; shiny. Cleaned recently. He straightened again and moved slowly through the room, head tilted to one side. Moriarty chuckled.

"Something funny, Jim?" Sherlock murmured, studying a mark on the counter.

"only you, as always, Sherly."

"Obviously." he replied dryly.

"done yet?"

"Yes." Sherlock left the kitchen to take a seat in John's armchair. it felt odd. He preferred his own. Jim smiled at Sherlock's awkwardness and blew smoke rings.

"where next, or are you stuck _again_?" Sherlock sighed and averted his gaze. It landed on his violin. He wanted to play it again, but now wasn't the time.

"I suppose you could once again play the part of John the Idea Conductor."

"oh, don't insult me, I know far more than he would, even if it wasn't my game."

"Obviously. Go on."

"fine, fine. your in the right _building_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: how awesome am i? posting ****_two_**** chapters in the space of an hour? dont worry, my ego isnt ****_that _****big, well, not yet, i'm just happy i could edit both in this time! also, we still havnt died! happy christmas everyone, and everyone who reviews gets an automatic cyber lion-bot from santa, guarenteed!**

**BB**

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"Good. I assumed as much. Correct building as in 'John's location', or as in 'on the right track to John's location'?"

"depends on your point of view."

"How helpful," Sherlock muttered.

"I'm not bottle feeding you, work it out." Sherlock sighed.

"It's unlikely John would be in this building. I have seen nothing to indicate his presence. There would have been some blood left somewhere if he had been; injuries like his would be difficult to stop bleeding immediately, and then there's the matter of his clothes. And he's a smart man, he would've found a way to leave a sign."

"so where do you want to look?"

"It's worth checking the rest of the building. You used 221C before."

"ok." Sherlock stood again - grateful to get up from John's chair - and followed the staircase up, Jim following him, strolling slowly. Sherlock tried the door, growling when he remembered that _some_ people locked their flats. Or Mrs. Hudson was just being careful. Whatever.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Mrs Hudson had been cleaning up in 221C, a general sweep and polish, just in case anyone wanted to take a look. Upon hearing Sherlock shouting, she muttered under her breath about not being his housekeeper before trotting up the stairs.

"what is it Sherlock?" she spotted Jim and immediately her hand flew up to her mouth,

"oh dear, are you in trouble Sherlock?"

"no, I just want you to open 221A for us please." he spoke flatly; he didn't have the time or patience to deal with her at the moment.

"oh, okay." she put her shaky hand in her pocket and brought out a ring of keys. Finding the right one, she gave them to Sherlock, leaning in to whisper into her ear.

"be careful Sherlock, I recognise that man from the papers." He smiled slightly at her quaint ignorance,

"don't worry, I'll be careful." he hurried her out and silently led the way up to 221A. He opened the stiff door forcefully, moving quicker as the prospect of John being safe again came closer. Jim followed Sherlock through the front door, hanging around in the hall. Sherlock walked in slowly, as he usually did when it came to new scenes. He'd never been into 221A before, so he wanted to be sure to get everything. Jim went ahead again and led the way into the living room, which held yet another projector, but with a blank screen. "Sherly!"

"Odd," Sherlock commented.

"Blank. Could be a metaphor..."

"no, I need to set this up Sherly, I wont be a moment." Jim turned aside and sent a text.

"alright, he should only take a moment" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and waited. Jim's phone beeped.

"here we go..." the screen flashed and suddenly there was John, life size against the wall. "Sherlock?!" he sounded like death, and looked worse. Sherlock's hand gave a painful squeeze. "John..." He longed to reach out to the image - part of his mind wanted to believe that John was really there - but he was smarter than that.

"S-Sherlock, what the h-hells going on?" Jim chuckled,

"you know _exactly_ what John, I explained earlier, me and Sherly are playing a _game_."

"what? that was really true? how could you- I can't even-that doesn't matter. what's happening now?" John was drowsy and knew he would soon be unconscious again, so he didn't have time.

"why am I here?" Jim saw the look on Sherlock's face and replied for him, grinning morbidly.

"its quite simple: Sherly has to find you, then you both go free."

"John, calm down." Sherlock was feeling a mixture of relief and fear; _just how bad were his injuries?_ He was glad to see John relatively safe. At least he was alive _and_ they were in contact - sort of.

"calm down?! Sherlock- just don't."

"No, you don't," Sherlock replied, sounding more like his normal self, but the brief moment of normality faded quickly.

"You'll only do yourself more harm if you panic."

"huh, I think I know that _now_."

"You're a smart man, but you can be rather dim sometimes." Sherlock snorted. He glanced at Jim before deciding to take his chances.

"Do you have any idea of where you are? Any hints? What building are you in?" John chuckled hoarsely,

"well it isn't exactly a holiday Sherlock, I've been unconscious, but I did-" the camera flashed off.

"Damn!" Sherlock snarled, kicking the wall. Now that he'd had contact with John, Sherlock was even more eager to find his friend. He was beginning to worry about just how much he cared for him, but that didn't matter. John was clearly suffering from painful injuries, and Sherlock needed to help him. Jim sent several texts, smirking, then decided to fill in Sherlock,

"no direct help Sherly. I've kept him conscious for now, but I _did_ warn you, and I can't always restrain Seb, he is _so_ strong willed..." the screen flashed back up with a slightly worse John: his shirt was speckled with blood, as was his face, and his right eye was swelling up. Sherlock ran a hand through his hair as he looked back to the projector, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, John, don't tell me anything, and I mean _anything_." Sherlock was clearly distressed; he wasn't making an attempt to hide it any more. John smiled,

"don't worry, _Seb_ has _kindly_ provided a list of prohibited subjects." John was showing a brave face really, he knew for sure that he had at least seven cracked ribs, a broken arm, and a fractured ankle for god's sake, but he mustn't let it show to Sherlock, he would get to distracted.

"If I mention any of them, _don't say a word_." Sherlock's gaze flicked over the image, searching for clues.

"Keep talking, though. Please. About anything."

"um, ok," John was struggling to remain conscious, but tried to hide it,

"where have you been so far?"

"All over London. Several prisons, St. Barts, Scotland Yard..."

"really? I think I was in a prison for a while too..."

"I noticed. I visited the very same, but you'd been moved by then. Recently, too. I'm sorry I was too late."

"no, don't worry, that was _my fault_." he looked sarcastically above the camera, obviously directed at Sebastian.

"Yours?" Sherlock's gaze focused on John again. "How? Wait, no. I know. You annoyed Seb."

"huh, yeah, you could say that..."

"For once in your life, don't be so stupid."

"huh, yeah, well, he made me jump and I just punched him..." Sherlock covered his face with both his hands.

"Don't be so _stupid_. Honestly, are you an ex-soldier or not?"

"well, to be honest, it was _that_ training that broke his nose..." John chuckled, and Sherlock started to laugh to, but they both stopped suddenly as John gasped painfully, wincing at the pain.

"Don't strain yourself." He continued to study John's surroundings.

"Your injuries. Can you describe what you think they are? I'll need to know what necessary items to bring with me."

"Sherlock, I really don't need you to worry..."

"you do. Letting yourself get kidnapped... If I wasn't worried I wouldn't be trying to get you back."

"fine, if your sure... 7, maybe 8... cracked, or broken ribs... a broken arm, possibly in two... places and a, a fractured ankle. Happy?" John looked down at the ground, almost shamefully, shuffling into a more comfortable position.

"No, obviously, but thank you for telling me." Sherlock spared a moment to glare at Jim before looking at John again.

"Don't move around too much, you'll disturb your injuries, but I'm sure you knew that already. And, above all, _don't give Seb any reason to harm you again_."

"that's almost impossible, and... I think infection has already... set in, but I'll be waiting."

the screen went dead.

"happy?" Jim spoke for the first time in a while.

"No," Sherlock said, repeating his answer to John.

"He's hurt. How could I be happy about that?"

"I _believe_ I meant happy I held back Sebastian, but sure."

"In that case, yes, I'm happy." _Infection might have set in, he said... I have to hurry_.

"Well, Jim, where to?"

"isn't that _your_ job?"

"Ah, but occasionally I test John, and since you're filling in for him..."

"oh, ok, well, Do. The Work. Yourself!" Sherlock wasn't fazed by Jim's shouting.

"Please, do refrain from being loud, Mrs. Hudson won't appreciate it."

"I don't _appreciate_ Mrs Hudson." Jim's phone rang suddenly, and he stood.

"I have to take this." he left the room, then the building. Sherlock followed silently: He would wait inside the hall for Jim, and maybe he'd be lucky enough to catch some of the conversation. Sherlock closed his eyes and thought, his fingers resting on his lips. _There is always a pattern... _Jim returned, scowling, and marched straight into the kitchen. Sherlock didn't notice him passing; his Mind Palace was consuming his thoughts. _A pattern... pattern... something the sa- Oh!_

"Cameras," he murmured. Jim muttered angrily in the kitchen, something to do with "her" again, pacing. He soon came back to the sitting room and stood looking out of the window, texting furiously. Sherlock eyes snapped open.

"Cameras. Films. Cleaning products. Why would cleaning products me needed? To clean, of course, simple. This particular brand is well known for being good commercially, so it would be used by those who want to make a good impression. Fussy women or large companies, then." Jim punched the wall after receiving another text, actually making dust drop from the weak plaster.

"Now, the way films and large companies would coincide would be a cinema. It's most likely to be disused, like the prisons, because then nobody would interrupt." Sherlock's eyes were sparkling with joy and triumph.

"Which means..." Sherlock strode towards the door, leaving Jim behind. In his haste, he forgot to pick up any supplies for John, even though he promised he would.

"Sherlock." Sherlock paused and looked over his shoulder.

"What?" It surprised him to hear Jim use his proper name, but he hid that.

"I am afraid you will have to wait. there is some...business I need to take care of before you arrive."

"Oh, for God's sake. Don't tell me you're going to move John again."

"no, no, just want to make John all pretty for you, and I have _her_ to attend with..." Sherlock gave Jim a witheringly look.

"As long as John is in fairly good health - I would request that he be perfectly fine, but given what I saw on the web cam, that isn't possible."

"hmmm..." Jim muttered under his breath about the women again and turned to leave. Sherlock took another step towards the door, his head tilted to one side and one eyebrow raised.

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then?"

"oh, what do I care?" Jim trudged down the stairs, saddened because she had ruined his game, then his phone lit up. he answered the call, not saying a word. He decided to be annoying. He knew that social politeness demanded that he leave Jim alone while he was on the phone, but, well...

He was Sherlock.

So he followed him, talking sharply.

"It wouldn't be convenient for you. I could easily slip away, find John and stop everything for you. Doesn't that thought concern you?" He had to admit to himself, he was curious. Jim held up a hand to halt Sherlock and spoke, growling softly into the phone.

"one. moment." he turned on Sherlock menacingly, glaring at him.

"you so much as _step_ towards John and I will _burn_ him." Sherlock froze and gritted his teeth. His hands curled into fists in his pockets. He looked away. Instead of heading off to find John, as he'd promised, Sherlock stayed where he was. Jim turned towards the door to speak into the phone again.

"continue." after a few moments, he growled fully into the phone.

"are you sure? if you are lying then I-" he stopped mid sentence, already sure she wasn't. a grin spread across his face and his put the phone into his pocket, hanging up. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Satisfied?" Jim almost purred an agreement as he bounded back up the stairs. Sherlock sighed and studied a dent in the wall, probably from some criminal or another trying to get to Sherlock somehow. After a long moment, Sherlock decided to follow Jim. As he went, Sherlock felt a bit of curiosity burning amongst his concern for John.

"Why have you suddenly changed? You were angry moments ago."

"well Sherly, I _am_ just so damn changeable! do you want to hear my new idea, or should it be a surprise?"

"I'd prefer to know. While I agree that _some_ surprises are fine, I'd rather know, in case it's related to John."

"oh, that's sad, I was going to give you a surprise."

"Well, it's not like _I'm_ in control of your little game, is it?" he snapped. John was _injured_ and Jim was just dragging things out... Sherlock took a deep, calming breath. Perhaps a second attempt would be... beneficial. He just had to remember that it was to help John. He caught Jim's elbow, holding onto it in a firm yet slightly gentle grip.

"Come now, Jim. I know you want to tell me."

"oh, do I?" Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you do." Sherlock leaned towards Jim slightly.

"I doubt it."

"Hm. What happened to being _so_ changeable?"

"I suppose, I _can_ be," he looked at Sherlock jauntily, "_changeable_." Secretly finding the situation amusing, Sherlock placed his mouth by Jim's ear and lowered his voice.

"Tell me, Jim."

"why should I?"

"why do anything? Because you want to." Sherlock repeated Jim's words to him from a while ago, a smirk on his lips.

"and why would I want to exactly?"

"Because there could be a reward behind it." Sherlock made sure to let his breath tickle Jim's ear and neck, so the criminal _knew_ just how close he was. Jim chuckled softly in Sherlock's ear and whispered softly,

"which would be?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Sherlock smirked, drawing back and waving one finger in the air.

"It's a _surprise_."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: beware, there is sheriarty fluff present! merry christmas,**  
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"A surprise," Sherlock smiled jauntily, imitating Jim, "for a surprise."

"oh really, how, _interesting_. give me a clue Sherly?"

"Hmm." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and watched Jim for a moment, considering.

"Fine." He let his hand drift down to Jim's wrist instead of his elbow, simply holding his wrist. Jim chuckled,

"you really do want to know, don't you Sherly?" A look of pleased relief came onto Sherlock's face.

"I'm glad to see that you're not losing your observation skills."

"and you it seems _any_ skills." Jim's smile was now genuine; he was starting to enjoy his little _game_. Sherlock laughed softly.

"Is it working then? I assumed as much."

"oh, you did, did you?"

"Oh, of course. Naturally."

"_naturally_." Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"Well, Jim? _A surprise for a surprise_?"

"maybe, you first, then I'll decide."

"Oh, no, Jim. That's not how it works. Decide now if you want to find out... the surprise..." Sherlock let his fingers dance across the back of Jim's hand, "And then we'll see."

"oh Sherly, you forget who's in charge, but I'll submit, this time. you have my word I'll tell you."

"Good choice. You won't regret it." Sherlock let his voice fall into a sort of purr. He could feel laughter bubbling in his chest, but he held it back. Jim raised an eyebrow, raising his eyes to look straight into Sherlock's. Sherlock steeled himself. He'd rather be running through London to find John , but Jim had promised him precious information, So...

Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched Jim, his head tilted to the side. Jim stared back, amused now as well as curious. He quickly pressed a button on his phone, out of Sherlock's sight, then grinned at the detective. Sherlock's hand trailed back up to Jim's shoulder, his touch lighter than a feather brushing along the arm of his suit. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Jim let him, closing his eyes in mock- pleasure. He had intended to tell the detective everything at the start, but this was becoming far more fun. After all, it was far more entertaining to see how far Sherlock was willing to go for some information than to watch John squirm. he could do that any time..

Sherlock leaned closer over Jim, sitting on the arm of the chair. He stroked the criminals neck lightly, running his fingers through Jim's hair. Jim, hiding his repulsion for any physical contact with Sherlock, groaned and leaned backwards, gravity pulling Sherlock with him. As he slid onto Jim's lap, Sherlock couldn't help stop the giggle which escaped him; although he wasn't remotely attracted to Moriarty, he found the experience strangely new and invigorating.

_Concentrate Sherlock, you have to save John._

He let his free hand slip around Jim's hip, stroking the man's lower back. As Moriarty was showing no resistance, Sherlock leaned fully over the criminal, lowering his head so his lips brushed against Jim's. Abruptly, Moriarty threw off, Sherlock, his repulsion too overwhelming to control himself any more, his face crumpled in disgust

"you really _are_ committed!"

"Of course," Sherlock murmured, standing and wiping his mouth absent mindedly.

"You promised me information. I've held up my half of the bargain, its your turn."

"fine, but first, I'm thirsty." Jim leaned back in the chair, grinning ruefully. Sherlock turned and went into the kitchen.

"Cold?" he said. He remembered that Jim preferred it that way, but he knew that his brilliant mind was frazzled by John's predicament, so he was beginning to distrust his own thoughts, much like at Baskerville, when he thought he'd seen the hound.

"obviously."

"Disgusting," Sherlock muttered, but he poured the cup and placed it on the counter before setting about making himself a cup of tea.

"no, just _different_." Jim flashed him a mock-genuine smile as Sherlock passed him his drink, taking a long gulp.

"Admittedly so, but I prefer drinks to be hot." Sherlock made a face when he took a cautious sip of his tea.

"Oh, God. Another reason I need John back is definitely for his tea."

"how adorable!" Moriarty drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

"I suppose you could say so." Sherlock lifted his tea cup and drank a few sips.

"I'm still not sure I want to tell you, its fun to watch you squirm.."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jim, you know you want to. The reward involved is tempting to you. I can tell."

"oh it is is it?"

"Of course. There's a flicker of something in your eyes whenever I mention the reward." Smirking, Sherlock drank some more of his tea. Jim grinned,

"oh really? how interesting. I think I might tell you _soon, _since in" he checked his watch "forty five minutes, or so, the information would be pointless." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He moved forward in his seat slightly and put his tea cup on the table next to his- well, _John's_ chair.

"There's a time limit? Interesting."

"yes, I suppose to you it would be. I'll be back soon." Jim stood to go and started walking down the steps, but Sherlock leaped from his chair and grabbed Jim's elbow again.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured. Jim shrugged.

"the shop."

"Why?"

"you're boring me." He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You can't even do me the courtesy of staying? After what we agreed on?"

"which _was?_" Sherlock turned Jim to face him, his eyes narrowed.

"Your memory is as good as mine, Jim."

"oh, we have a while yet..." he reached for the door, causing Sherlock to tighten his grip on Jim's shoulders.

"I think you'll find we'll be staying here, actually."

"really?" he got out his phone to text Seb. Sherlock's eyes narrowed again.

"Don't you want to find out what 'the reward' is? Come on, Jim. Information for 'the reward', you remember, don't you...?"

"oh yes, _the reward_."

"Of course 'the reward'. Well? Has that changed your mind, or do you still insist on going to the shops?"

"hmmm, I'll...consider that...no, i want to go to the shop."

"What for?"

"not sure yet."

"You need a _reason_ to go the shops..." Sherlock murmured, trailing his hand up to Jim's jaw.

"I told you, I'm bored."

"Boredom can be solved..." His fingers pressed lightly against Jim's cheek before drifting up towards his ear.

"oh really?" he turned slowly to face Sherlock.

"Of course..." He let his hand fall back to his side, a mischievous, teasing look in his eyes. Jim grinned back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: hey, hope everyone had a great christmas etc, sorry this one took so long, i had some technical issues and lost all of my work :( so i have had to re write it at home. please review or favourite as it does me a huge favour (i am having an arguement with Aldura Skalbaka, author of ****_cross my heart, because she has waaaay more views and stuff. thanks!)_**

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"Well...?" Sherlock stepped back, gesturing with his hand at the flat in general.

"The shops, or the flat?" Jim winked at him and walked back up the steps, going back into the living room and then Sherlock's chair. Sherlock smirked.

"Good choice." As he closed the door behind Jim, he felt a moment of panic before he locked it away, like he usually did with his emotions. Jim made another cold cup of coffee and settled into the chair.

"Another one?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, as he deposited his empty cup in the kitchen.

"nothing else to do as you were _sooo_ persistent."

"You would choose coffee over me? I would find that offensive if I _could_ be offended."

"no, you're here too aren't you?"

"Point taken." Sherlock simply stared at Jim, wondering what do to with himself. He doubted the criminal would appreciate having his coffee interrupted, not that he was being considerate or anything.

"so, what was _so_ important" Moriarty said innocently,

"that I couldn't go to the shops?"

"Well, you see, Jim..." Sherlock strode over to him and stood in front of Jim, appearing to look troubled.

"I want that information you are keeping from me. I know you are my equal; it's unlikely you'll slip and hand it over. So... I'm willing to make a trade."

"ah yes, _a surprise for a surprise_"

"You _do_ remember. Helpful. Do you agree?"

"well, I might as well, its better than going to the shop..."

"For every thing _I_ do, I want information on _your_ surprise," Sherlock murmured, leaning over Jim.

"That's my move in this game of yours."

"further you go where exactly?" Jim was asking his questions with mock innocence, fully aware of what Sherlock was proposing. The detective swept down and pressed his lips to the skin just under Jim's ear.

"You know full well," he purred. Jim closed his eyes and breathed heavily, not actually aroused, but secretly trying his hardest not to laugh and swat him away again. Sherlock was aware of Jim's irritation; there was slight difference between the type of sighs a person made, and his was definitely not the one a person would make if they were enjoying the situation.

"Your turn," he breathed. Sherlock knew he was making a fool of himself, but he also knew that Moriarty would play the game. Jim swivelled slightly and whispered into _Sherlock's_ ear,

"shall I tell you?"

"Oh, please do," he replied just as quietly, brushing a hand up Jim's arm.

"well," Jim came in even closer

"now there are _two_ things."

"Two? Tell me." Sherlock nudged Jim's head with his.

"which first, the original or the new thing?"

"Whichever is more urgent. I'll get both of them eventually."

"oh, will you? well," Jim pulled away to face Sherlock, secretly pressing a button on his phone behind Sherlock's back, "you have..." he checked his watch

"fifteen minutes to find John before Seb does." Sherlock's eyes widened. He could practically feel the seconds tick, tick, ticking away, but he kept a calm façade. He knew where John was.

"And the other?" Jim looked at his watch again, frowning

"actually, I was wrong, it's _five_ minutes, not fifteen. _oops_." Jim grinned and walked to the window,

"the traffic's bad today." Sherlock's throat became choked up for a moment before he swallowed, twirling away to put his coat on and tying his scarf.

"Is that it?"

"I _did_ say there were two, but John will probably tell you the second himself anyway. Want me to drive?"

"No, I think this is where I'm going to have to go alone. No doubt you'll manipulate things and make me lose time." On a whim, Sherlock picked up John's handgun. He usually stole it from him anyway.

"no, I want to come, and offering to drive was actually a helpful thing for you... but it's your choice."

"Fine! Drive then!" Sherlock growled, stalking towards the door.

"Just hurry. Don't dawdle. Don't mess me around."

"okay, I was only being nice...oh, you don't mind being _illegal_" he spat the word with disgust

"do you?"

"I suppose I can let it slide... why? And hurry!" He bolted downstairs, his shoes thundering on the steps. From somewhere below, Mrs. Hudson shouted, _Boys! Keep it down! _But Jim just chuckled, muttering under his breath as he followed Sherlock. As they left the building, Moriarty led Sherlock quickly down several back streets. Sherlock hurried after him, swiftly crushing any brief moments of panic that made his heart rate increase. He had to stay calm, like normal. It wouldn't help things if he panicked. Grinning, Jim skipped over and opened the passenger seat of a nearby police car, looking expectantly at Sherlock.

"Police car...?" Despite the time he was losing, Sherlock looked at it warily.

"you want to get there with no traffic or not?" Jim called from the driver's seat, turning on the engine.

"Fair point." Sherlock muttered, diving into the passenger seat. He closed the door behind him. He felt trapped in the small space, but he didn't mention it. He wanted to run there ideally, but he knew he'd only waste time if he did that. Jim put another cigarette in his mouth, lit it casually and opened the window. Revving the engine, he grinned at Sherlock,

"we should do this more often Sherly."

"I'd rather not. Just drive, Jim. Quickly. Please." Sherlock spoke in clipped sentences, too agitated to talk further. Jim frowned in mock sadness,

"there's no need to snap..." he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and the car surged forwards towards the main road. Jim pulled into the traffic and was immediately stuck in a traffic jam.

" d'you want to obide by the _law_," he said, rolling his head round to stare at Sherlock dramatically,

"or have some fun?"

"Whatever gets me to John quicker." Sherlock growled.

"ooh, now _that_ I can do, you may want to make sure you aren't recognised..." Jim grinned even more as he flicked on the sirens. he pulled over onto the pavement and started to drive on it, causing several screaming pedestrians. Sherlock tucked his chin into his coat and pulled his scarf over his face. Grumbling to himself, he also pulled the blasted hat out of his pocket and stuck it on his head.

"Interesting approach," he commented.

"interesting hat." Jim replied simply, "but you _did_ just _have_ to get to John before Seb gets to play, so this is really _your_ fault."

"Of course, hence the use of this damn thing." Sherlock slid down in his seat until he appeared to much shorter than normal, at least to the people who only got fleeting glimpses of them through the car windows.

"I'm only driving you there to give you a fighting chance to get there before Seb, but once we get there I'm not going to help. I'm going there to, and your welcome to join me, but you may want to find John on your own."

"I assume you'll be taking a roundabout route, then? One that will be much too long to get to John before Seb."

"nope, I just thought that you couldn't- actually, I'm not telling you, just make a decision."

"I'll go by myself. I'll admit, I'd prefer not to have you breathing down my neck while I search for John."

"I'll be watching." Jim promptly pulled over in a U turn and climbed out of the car; he hadn't bothered with a seatbelt. Sherlock hopped out of the police car, looking around warily in case any of the passers by had spotted him. Jim's driving certainly wasn't easy to hide.

"Any hint for the right direction?" Jim paused to send a text before answering.

"upwards." he promptly walked up the steps, opening the door for Sherlock. Sherlock rushed past him without thanking him. He broke into a mixture of a jog and a run; he kept pausing to look for any sign that he was going in the right direction. He took a set of stairs two at a time in his haste. John's gun was held so tightly in his hand he had to consciously loosen his grip so he didn't accidentally pull the trigger. Sherlock continued running up the stairs, ignoring his fatigue. he ran out onto the 17th floor, barely able to breathe and allowed himself little rest."I'm... coming..." he hissed and took off running again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: here is another to make up for the ****_huuggge_**** time gap, my apologies again! remember, people without accounts on can still leave a review, so there is no excuse!**  
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Humming, Jim walked down the stairs marked "staff only" and chuckled, shaking his head. He strolled into the loading bay's lift and hummed along to the Bach playing through his headphones, pressing the button simply marked "up". He tapped his feet on the floor of the lift as it rose quickly, the floor number rising, 1, 2, 3, 4... until it slowed to a stop on floor 17. Jim strolled out of the door to find a panting Sherlock leaning against the wall.

"hurry up Sherly, your going to be late."

"I'm... going..." he hissed and took off running again. Jim laughed and called after him

"oh, ok, I'll just be waiting in here with Seb and John then..." he shook his head laughing and walked through the door directly opposite him. Sherlock skidded to a halt and ran back after Jim.

"Could've... told... me...!"

"technically, I did." Jim laughed some more but he couldn't be heard after the door was shut. He walked down the wide corridor which then split in two. Jim knew that the one on the left led to John and Seb, and the right a surveillance room. he reached into his pocket and got out a sheet of paper with "John" then an arrow on it. he quickly added a frowning face in the O before sticking it to the wall with his chewing gum, pointing to the left. whistling a tune, Moriarty walked through the right door and sat in the surveillance room, switching on the camera's to John and Seb's room and setting up a audio so that he could speech through the mic and it would be broadcast next door. he stood, locked the door, and leaned over the mic.

"oh johnny boy!"

* * *

After the video feed with Sherlock, John hadn't been conscious much. His injuries were now far more serious: his arm was now infected and leg had gone septic, as well as now having 9 cracked or broken ribs and a missing toe. he was only conscious a few minutes at a time, and that was mainly when Seb injected adrenalin into his system to torture him. He was already being injected when he heard the call, but it would have woken him in any case. He was chained to the face wall of a film set, surrounded by bright white lights and speakers. he shivered at the sound of Moriarty's voice, but tried to answer boldly

"what is it this time?" he stared into the tiny cameras dotted around the room,

"got something else to show me?" his voice cracked as he said this, ending with a whimper. he couldn't even bear to think of the videos, he just couldn't. they hurt to much. Jim chuckled over the mic,

"why yes, I do as a matter of fact, Sherlock has come to collect you." John's heart was in his mouth but he didn't allow himself to be happy, not yet. For all he knew, Jim was just lying to upset him.

"h-how d-d-do I know you're telling the t-truth?" he could hear Moriarty chuckling over the microphone.

"why not take a look?" the TV directly in front of John lit up, but he instinctively hid his eyes; he was scared this was a trick to make him watch another of those videos, but as he heard none of the noises that now haunted him, he slowly opened his eyes. he was watching recent CCTV footage of Sherlock, in fact, if the time was correct, he was watching Sherlock right now.

* * *

Sherlock rushed along the corridor, saw the sign, and bolted left. He just ran now; his own weariness was long gone with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He almost ran into the door, he was running so fast. He smacked into it, growled in pain, then pushed himself back. "John," he called through the door. "John." Sherlock continued repeating "John, John, John," over and over, unable to stop himself.

"John, answer me, please." He was so overwhelmed by the emotions he'd been pressing down throughout this whole game, his hands were shaking on the door handle.

John had been staring speechlessly at the TV, watching Sherlock and hearing his calls at the door. most of him wanted to shout back, to tell Sherlock what had happened and how he never wanted to leave the detective's side again, but a tiny twisted corner of his mind harboured all of his fears and doubts; the videos. Had Sherlock changed while he was gone, was this all just a twisted game? he remained silent, staring at the screen.

Sherlock wrenched open the door, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment at the sight of John. He mentally shook himself and rushed forward, touching John's chin lightly with the tips of his fingers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sherlock repeated, frantically looking over his wounds. John said nothing, he couldn't, just stared up at Sherlock, remembering and re-memorizing all of his features.

"I should've arrived quicker, I'm sorry." Sherlock took a shuddering breath before turning his attention to the chains.

"Key," he said simply. His mind was whirling with the knowledge that _John was there,_ rendering him unable to think clearly for the moment. John slowly raised an arm to point at the wall, on which the key hung from a nail.

"Right. Yes." Sherlock spared a moment to give John an almost annoyed look.

"Don't strain yourself, you'll only do more damage." He strode across the room to grab the key, keeping an eye on John the whole time, as if he would disappear if Sherlock looked away. John chuckled softly which then turned to a raspy cough, making Sherlock raise an eyebrow.

"Something funny? I can't imagine what would be in this situation."

"just...you being..._you_ Sherlock." John found it hard to talk because of the pain.

"Right." Sherlock's expression softened.

"Don't talk either. As much as I want to hear your voice, please don't." He set about freeing John. Now that John was relatively safe, Sherlock had trouble holding back another emotion. Pure hatred for Jim Moriarty. Ironically, it was at this point Jim decided to interrupt their little scene.

"oh, Sherly?" he sang through the microphone. The detective didn't look up from his work.

"What?" he snapped, bad mood back in place, despite John's presence.

"aren't you surprised Seb isn't around to play?"

"I beat him to John, Jim, that was the game." Sherlock moved onto another of the chains, pausing to make sure John was capable of standing first, though.

"no, I told you, you were late." Sherlock's heart almost stopped with shock. He'd missed that fact. _Oh. _He swallowed nervously and forced himself to keep on the task of freeing John from the chains.

"well well, is Sherly scared?"

"I don't get _scared_," Sherlock replied scornfully.

"you sound _scared._"

"I'm stressed, there's a difference." Sherlock glanced at John's face quickly, wondering whether he could tell just how frightened Sherlock was. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he got this far and then lost John.

"ah, how sweet, you _are_ scared aren't you?" John stared up at Sherlock and smiled weakly.

"Just get on with it," he muttered. He eventually looked away from John so he could concentrate on removing the last of the chains, but it was mostly to hide his expression.

"no, no, I don't want to break this little show up, I'll find you later Sherlock, I _owe_ it to you." _You owe so much more,_ Sherlock hissed in his head, but was too frightened to say it aloud. He couldn't risk John any more. Instead, he simply nodded jerkily at the camera, a slight snarl curling his lip.

"bye bye Sherlock..."

"Goodbye, Jim." John shivered slightly and stared up at Sherlock, eyes wide. The detective stepped back slightly once the last of the chains fell away.

"We'll be alright," he murmured. He didn't believe his own words. They were empty, ones of comfort, and they were _always_ said in these situations. he found them to be completely clichéd, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"we should...leave, I might...need... help." he reached out with his good arm for Sherlock, fingers splayed. Sherlock gently took hold of it and wound it around his neck to support John. He placed an arm around John's waist too, to hold him upright.

"Tell me if it's too much, and we'll find another way to find our way out." It wasn't very sensible, trying to make an escape under the nose of the enemy, especially when more danger had been promised, but John was injured. That was still the primary thought in Sherlock's brain. _John's injured. Help him. Get him OUT._

"its...fine." John slowly started to hop forwards, leaning heavily on Sherlock, his face pinched in pain from his chest. Sherlock frowned, god dammit, it was hurting _him_ to see John in this much pain.

"No, I want you to tell me if it's too bad. I'll carry you if I have to." Well, try to carry him, at least. John gave him a grimace and sped up, actually leading Sherlock now out of the room, desperate to leave. Sherlock increased his pace to keep up. He refused to let John go, partly because John needed the support physically, but also because Sherlock couldn't bear to.

"What happened to you?" he asked. He wasn't sure whether he meant it as a rhetorical question.

"huh,..you really...don't want to ….know Sherlock." He spared a moment to give John a witheringly look.

"I've spent God-knows-how-long going around London to find you, John Watson. I have a feeling that it won't do me any good to know, but I want to. That way I'll know how much hate I can allow for Moriarty." John chuckled, a few specks of blood peppering his lip,

"fine, but... I'll... tell you a... little later, okay?" he leaned against the wall for a moment, to the left of the elevator.

"Fine." Sherlock kept his grip on John's waist, watching him anxiously.

"We need to get you to St. Bart's..." he murmured.

"Sherlock, can...we take the...elevator? I..know how you... love to walk," he raised an eyebrow and grinned at Sherlock,

"but we...don't have the...time."

"I was going to suggest it anyway. I wasn't going to make you walk downstairs." Sherlock pressed the button for the elevator, then looked at John. He hesitated, then decided to give in. He drew him into a quick hug, careful not to jostle his injuries. After a brief moment, he pulled back again and acted like nothing had happened. John smiled at Sherlock and hobbled into the elevator, leaning in the corner for support. Sherlock followed him in, not able stop himself from smiling back a little. John shivered and held his lifeless arm closer to himself, wincing as he did so. Sherlock forced himself to stand still, when really he wanted to pace back and forth.

"Lift's too slow," he growled, shooting a glare at the doors.

"no Sherlock, you just...move too..."John couldn't finish, the pain of speaking was agonising. Panic flared in Sherlock's eyes. His grip on John's waist tightened in response, but he made sure not to put John in any unnecessary pain.

"Don't talk," he repeated, a pleading look on his face. John smiled grimly at Sherlock and closed his eyes, leaning on him even heavier.

"John you _must_ stay awake," Sherlock said quietly but firmly. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew more than most people did.

"You must hold out until we arrive at St. Bart's." John looked at him blearily again and smiled; the pain had made him delirious. Sherlock spared a moment to roll his eyes.

"Honestly..." John looked up at him questioningly.

"How can you _smile_ when you're in that state?" John merely rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, sighing dreamily. Sherlock decided that John was endearing when he was acting like this; he couldn't keep another tiny smile off of his face. when the doors of the lift opened John surged forward, pointing shakily to the stairs, the only way out, as he knew Sherlock hadn't been there before.

"Careful," Sherlock chided, pulling John back gently and holding him upright.

"Not far now." John started to hop forwards again, wheezing, until he stopped at the base of the steps. Sherlock followed him, attempting to help him up the first step, but to no avail. The stairway was narrow and he couldn't support John properly. After a few minutes John just held up a hand to catch up his breath.

"this is going... to hurt." he grinned at Sherlock then proceeded to step up two steps, on his broken leg, causing a huge splintering sound as he did so. he swung his good leg up to the top, his face contorted with pain. Sherlock wrapped both of his arms around John to hold him still.

"No," he said firmly.

"Stand still. I'm going to carry you. Don't protest; this isn't negotiable." John couldn't speak for the pain for a while and only just managed to shakily whisper. _I got there, didn't I?_ into Sherlock's ear after they had left the building.

"For God's sake, John," Sherlock growled. He helped him towards the street. Soon he would have to take out his phone to call an ambulance, or the Scotland Yarders. Probably both. John laughed softly and rested his head back on Sherlock's shoulder; it was comforting for him. Careful to keep one arm securely around John's waist, Sherlock took his phone from his pocket with the other and began dialling.

"Be more careful in future," he told him, before turning his attention to the ringing from the other end of the call. John whispered _never_ into Sherlock's ear but he was now so quiet Sherlock could hear him. He was right, the detective only felt John's breath in his ear. This worried him. John must be getting weaker.

"Preserve your strength," he added. When Lestrade's familiar voice picked up the phone, Sherlock couldn't have been more relieved.

"Get your least irritating officers over here at once, and an ambulance. Oh, who do you _think_ this is? Use your brain, Lestrade, you're smart, for a detective." John laughed so quietly it could be mistaken for breathing; he was fighting for consciousness, and losing. he tried to tell Sherlock by tapping on his back, but was asleep before he could tell if the detective had noticed. Sherlock glanced at John anxiously, then panicked a bit.

"Hurry," he hissed into the phone. He managed to choke "_John's injured" _out before he snapped the phone shut. He couldn't distract himself with that. Carefully, he crouched and swept one arm behind John's knees so he could carry him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: hey everyone, sorry this took so long but hey, i think by now you all know i'm just lazy. no one has any excuse for not reviewing, and dont be scared to critisize! hope you enjoy it, **

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John was rushed straight from the ambulance into several operations, one after the other, fixing his leg and arm, as well as what was apparently a punctured lung and removing dangerous splinters from his ribs and repairing them. He was unconscious until he woke a day later and found himself in the ICU. Sherlock was waiting. He'd refused to leave John's side. He'd only been separated from John during the operations, and that was only because he saw the sense there, but after that he stayed, waiting for John to wake up and praying that Jim hadn't done lasting damage. He was also still waiting for Jim. As he'd said, Sherlock _had_ been late... he was worried about when the criminal would finally strike.

When John finally woke, the first thing he saw was Sherlock at the end of the bed, apparently reading the chart.

"Hey, Sherlock." his voice was surprisingly strong, considering, but he still sounded weak. Sherlock's head jerked up. He moved his chair so he could sit beside John's head. John wouldn't have to talk so loud then, either.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"A little rough, but I've had worse. how long was I out?"

"Around a day."

"Hmm, not too bad. How long have you been here?" Sherlock glanced up at John. He'd been pointedly studying his hands before.

"The whole time." John looked at him properly for the first time, puzzled.

"why?" He blinked at John and took a moment to answer.

"Sentiment," he finally said.

"oh, ok..." Sherlock was aware that he'd explained sentiment before to John, so he didn't need to go into detail. He hesitated, then asked,

"What happened with Sebastian?"

"ah, yeah... _that_. you have to... remember, it wasn't ..._all_ your... fault Sherlock, so ...just don't blame ...yourself."

"I'm aware it wasn't all my fault, you should've been smarter." Sherlock sniffed and sat up in his chair, crossing his arms.

"But I'd still like to know what happened." John chuckled at this,

"of course. well, basically I... was the street" he had to stop for breath, "and a black... car pulled up...and pulled me in. Sebastian... drugged me and I... was in some... shed where I ...punched Seb, so... he cut off my...toe," John pointed to the stub at the end of his left foot.

"then I got beaten...every now and then...and Seb broke my leg before...moving me into...the studio, where he... broke my arm...and some more ribs. the...arm wasn't to...do with you, though..."John grinned at the memory, looking to the detective to see his reaction to what had happened. Sherlock looked calm, but his fury was evident in his eyes; they were like shards of black ice.

"Damn Sebastian... And you really should have known better, John."

"trust me, it...was worth it."

"Not if he did _that_," Sherlock growled, gesturing at John. "If I'd been any later, you would have probably died."

"I doubt it, why?"

"Infections, splintered ribs..." Sherlock shook his head and looked away, still angry. With himself, with Seb, with Jim and with John.

"I could have lasted a... few hours at least..."

"No, you wouldn't have. Moriarty had me on a five minute time limit, and I was two minutes late as it was."

"I know, Seb told me."

"Which means we're likely to be in trouble at some point."

"yeah, still, we usually are." John winced as he sat up properly.

"Fair point." Sherlock watched John closely, his head tilted to one side.

"I really am sorry I didn't get to you sooner. My mind was a little... addled." John's mind immediately leapt to conclusions and he feared the worst, but he tried not to show it.

"that's okay, I survived."

"That was the point of me rushing around London, yes." John shook his head and pressed the button for more morphine.

"isn't it a little strange how easy it was for you?" Sherlock stiffened. While staring at his shoe, he muttered,

"My mind was so _addled_, I required... assistance..."

"from who?" He gave John a look.

"Who organised that whole ridiculous game?"

"really? _Moriarty_ helped... you? that's new..." John was pretending that he hadn't seen the videos, jut in case there was a good reason. He had to hope, anyway.

"I needed the help," he muttered.

"I was having trouble thinking clearly a lot of the time, John." Sherlock's hands curled into fists.

"Especially when he started showing off pictures and video clips of you trapped in various places and injured."

"Yeah, I remember... Seb filming that..."

"I can't say that it was the best moment of my life."

"no, nor mine..." Sherlock sighed shortly.

"And I'd like to say 'Thank goodness it's over', but it's not. Damn Moriarty."

"yeah, but its still...better than shooting ...the wall."

"The wall had it coming. So does Moriarty." John shook his head in mock despair.

"how long am I ...supposed to stay here?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask a doctor when one comes in." Sherlock seemed relieved to be off the topic of his inability to help John as much as he wanted to.

"no, lets just leave." John pulled back the sheets to reveal himself fully dressed with shoes on. he swung his legs round so he was sitting on the bed and reached forwards for a crutch, balanced against the basin. Sherlock took hold of John's elbow in a gentle but firm grip.

"Only if you're well enough," he said sternly.

"I'm fine Sherlock." he stood, leaning on the crutch,

"lets go, before they notice." Sherlock smirked and stood as well.

"In that case, I'm more than happy to leave. God, you don't know how _boring_ it was, waiting around for you to wake up."

"you didn't have to..."

"Of course I did," Sherlock said. He paused. He'd spoken before he'd thought. But he was being honest.

"come on then, lets get going...Mrs Hudson is going to... worry." John tapped him playfully with the crutch.

"Indeed she is. No doubt she'll come up with some sort of idea for that as well." Sherlock headed towards the doors, John keeping up surprisingly well: he was well experienced with using a crutch.

"Let me know if it gets to be too much," Sherlock said, repeating himself from when he found John.

"Sherlock, I'm not disabled."

"No, but you were. Afghanistan, remember?"

"yeah, I got shot."

"Obviously." Sherlock chuckled. "And now look at you. Admittedly, it's not a walking stick, but it's close enough. The wheel turns again."

"we both know I ...didn't need that stick."

"I knew before you did, John," Sherlock replied in a slightly sing-song voice.

"No, I _knew_ I wasn't ...shot in the leg, I just didn't ...mention it..." John was grumbling as usual.

"But you didn't admit that you didn't need it." Sherlock was enjoying teasing John; it was like normal again. John couldn't think how to respond, so he just carried on walking until they were out of the hospital, where he summoned a cab. Sherlock opened the door for him in an unusually kind gesture. It wasn't mocking like when he did it for Jim, it was just simply... nice. _Oh dear God,_ Sherlock thought with a grimace. _I'm acting like a _normal _person. God help me._

John climbed in and made room for Sherlock, who took his seat and shut the door. He raised an eyebrow as John's winced but said nothing, setting his gaze on John after giving the cabbie their address.

"What are we going to tell Mrs. Hudson this time?

"Not sure, I got... run over?"

"Sounds realistic." Sherlock chuckled to take the sting out of his tease.

"Well what do... _you_ think?"

"Well, we certainly can't tell her the truth, and no doubt you'll deem anything I come up with 'too creative'."

"yeah, but tell...me anyway."

"You were out minding your own business, doing whatever normal people do, when you were attacked. I heard of this and attempted to find you, but by the time I tracked you down your assailant had vanished. You went to hospital while I tried to track him down. That should account for the entirety of the time we've spent in the game."

"you were right, too creative. she'd just think we... were lying."

"That's why I leave dealing with people to you."

"fair enough, or we _could_ just tell... her we had an argument and... I stormed of, straight under a bus... or something." Sherlock chuckled again.

"Seems likely."

" a _little_ _domestic..._" John looked mischievously at Sherlock, who smirked.

"Mrs. Hudson seems determined to force us into a relationship."

"huh, yeah..." Sherlock huffed and tucked his chin into his jacket.

"You remember when we first moved into 221B, she was _encouraging_ it."

"oh yeah, that was new..."

"That's Mrs. Hudson for you."

"yep, pretty much sums her up." As cab slowed and then halted outside 221b John awkwardly got out, leaving the door open for Sherlock.

"Thanks." Sherlock got out, paid the cabbie and then headed up to the door.

"No doubt she'll _scold_ us for having a 'little domestic' resulting in your being hospitalised."John quoted Sherlock's "_obviously" _and leaned against the rail, breathing heavily. Sherlock looked at John.

"You alright with the steps?" John nodded, a chagrined smile on his face.

"Come on then." Sherlock leaped up them two at a time and headed inside. John went after him and started to climb the steps, trying to catch up, but as he got near the top his crutch slipped on something, causing it to slip out of his hand. He fell backwards, tumbling down the steps until he landed in a heap at the bottom. Sherlock turned on the spot as the sound of crash met his ears. When he saw the complete lack of John on the stairs behind him, it was obvious what had happened. He ran back down the stairs, jumped the last three and landed crouching like a cat beside John.

"Where are you hurt?" he demanded. John couldn't answer: he was unconscious.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: hey, here is a mini chapter stuffed with johnlock feels for you all! dont like the size? ha, moffatt attack...god i sound evil...**

**-REVIEW FOR MORE CHAPTERS- ...hehhehheh now you guys ****_have_**** to review...**

**BB#**

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Sherlock felt like hitting his head on the nearest wall. He sighed and carefully picked John up, struggling a little with his weight. He'd have to leave the crutch there and pick it up later. Or, he could-

"Mrs. Hudson! Could you get John's crutch? I can't carry him and that at the same time!"

"Sherlock! what's wrong with John? did you hurt him? shall I get an ambulance? is he dead?" her hand quivered at her mouth,

"what's going on?" Sherlock leaned against the wall to take some of John's weight.

"He fell down the stairs. We've just got back from hospital." Sherlock hissed as his arms began to ache.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to carry on... If you could get his crutch, that would be _wonderful_." He nodded at it at the foot of the stairs.

"oh dear..." Mrs Hudson grabbed the crutch and half ran up the stairs, muttering something about domestics and health insurance.

"God's sake," Sherlock muttered to the unconscious John.

"Never... thought I'd... have to do _this_..." He paused outside the door, his arms trembling.

"Could you get the door? _Please_?" Mrs Hudson dodged around Sherlock and opened the door, hurrying ahead of him.

"Thank you." He staggered inside and carefully placed John on the sofa. Once his arms were free, he sat down on the floor next to the sofa, sighing with relief and stretching his arms.

"um, I have to get back, shout if you need me."

"Of course. Thank you again Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock offered her the smile he reserved just for her. She'd always been nice to him. Next to John and Lestrade, she was probably his only friend. She smiled back and mumbled as she left, quietly closing the door.

Sherlock sat up on his knees and checked John over. First he carefully poked around his head to check for bleeding, then he made the various wounds from Moriarty's game his first priority. Sherlock sat back on his heels, eyes narrowed. A few cuts had reopened. Possible concussion. Nothing too serious. John would certainly have a headache when he woke, though.

A few minutes later, John woke up, with a full on hangover-style migraine. Sherlock glanced over at him from the kitchen, where he'd just boiled the kettle. Seeing that he was awake, he went over to him with some disinfectant.

"Can't be too careful," he said. John indicated he didn't mind, still barely conscious. Sherlock poured some onto a cloth and dabbed at the open cuts with it.

"Oh, it'll probably hurt," he added, after he applied the disinfectant. John grimaced and moved to take over from Sherlock.

"Stay still," Sherlock murmured, frowning slightly. He placed the bottle on the coffee table and put one hand on John's shoulder to make sure he did. John shook his head, smiling.

"I _do_ know what I'm doing, Sherlock." He huffed and sat back on his heels.

"Fine then, I'll go back to my tea." John laughed a little more as he cleaned himself, then became more serious.

"thanks, Sherlock." Sherlock watched John closely, making sure he was alright.

"You're welcome."

"no, seriously. if you hadn't of come when you did..." he looked away, embarrassed. Sherlock desperately tried to cling to his indifferent nature, but part of it slipped away and the hard look in his eyes softened.

"I know." John looked at him again, grimacing.

"No Sherlock, you really don't."

"I really _do: _Jim was giving me... updates throughout his 'game'." Sherlock looked away, his expression tortured.

"He took great pleasure in showing me those pictures, I'm sure of it."

"I know the feeling..." Sherlock frowned and caught John's gaze.

"You can't possibly. I wasn't injured during the entire game, Jim couldn't have shown you anything that compared to what I saw..." John stared directly at the cuts on his arm,

"well, that's not what I saw..."

"... I don't understand."

"...I suppose I'm supposed to tell you, aren't I? Didn't Moriarty mention anything?" Sherlock shook his head.

"No..."

"He didn't." Sherlock was starting to have horrible sneaking suspicions, though.

"do I really have to? you wont find it very interesting..."

"Please tell me, John."

"Uh, fine. a few times, Seb would set up this TV in front of me, and play live footage of the two of you...well..." he just shrugged, hoping Sherlock would remember. Sherlock felt his stomach drop through the floor. His suspicions had been right.

"It... it wasn't what it looked like, John. I promise." John's heart was in his mouth at this point, just like when he watched the footage of Sherlock shouting his name, but again he hid it, hid _all_ of it.

"I didn't think so, but then you never know with Moriarty..." he finished cleaning the cuts and swallowed hard, screwing the lid back onto the bottle and placing it shakily on the coffee table. Sherlock placed his hand hesitantly on John's wrist.

"If you must know, I did it to get information. Information on _you_. He was keeping it from me. I had to try. I couldn't stand not knowing if you were alright." John looked up, straight into Sherlock's eyes, fighting to keep his emotions hidden. Sherlock laughed shortly, without humour.

"God knows I would have gone about it in a differently, if I _could_ have done things in another way. I was desperate."

John was fighting himself to tell Sherlock everything now, how he felt, how he had _always_ _felt _it seemed, but he didn't. he just smiled sheepishly and stood, with the help of the crutch.

"tea?" Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief.

"_Please_. I really can't make tea."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: hello sweetie, here is another chapter, one i wrote just for you, enjoy it my darlings.**

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John smiled and walked into the kitchen. He closed the door, put on the kettle, then shakily collapsed over the sink, almost crying. He had always _loved_ Sherlock, deep inside, but only when he saw those videos did he fully realised it. He wanted to _be_ with Sherlock, to spend his life at his side, and he knew, _knew_, he could never tell him. Ever.

While John was out, Sherlock took his place on the sofa and buried his face in his hands. Why had he felt such a strong desire to protect John throughout the whole game? It had been stronger than normal, too, stronger than what simple friendship _should_ be. Sherlock lifted his head and tilted it to the side. _Was this what normal people called... love? _He understood the science behind it, but experiencing it was another matter altogether.

John walked backwards through the kitchen door, his hands full. He gave Sherlock a quick smile and passed him his tea, then sat in his usual spot in the armchair. looking on the floor, he noticed an empty cup on its side and leaned forward to pick it up, placing it on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock went over to his own armchair, grateful that Jim was no longer occupying it. He shrugged at John's look and sipped his tea. He sighed and allowed himself a small smile.

"God, I forgot how much better your tea was." John laughed at this and leaned back, into a more comfortable position,

"that's because your to damn lazy to learn how to make it properly!"

"Well, obviously." Sherlock chuckled. He kept his gaze fixed on the mirror when he added,

"It's much better with you back, John." John didn't say anything; he couldn't, not without saying _everything_. He just shrugged and picked up his laptop.

* * *

John had recovered quickly; in just a few days his ribs had mostly held and he had the general use of his leg again, even if he needed a stick. He was coming into the living room with some tea for Sherlock when he heard something drop through the post box. Sherlock was on his back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, wearing his dressing gown as usual. He was bored out of his _mind_. He turned his face slightly in John's direction and murmured,

"Can you get that?" John rolled his eyes, put the drinks on the table and went to the door. there was a white plastic carrier bag on the floor. He picked up the bag and took out the book it held; a copy of the complete history of saint Bartholomew. Puzzled, he walked into the sitting room and dropped the book onto Sherlock's stomach. The detective opened his eyes and raised his eyebrow at John's back.

"Ouch," he commented, not meaning it. Sherlock picked up the book and turned it over in his hands, giving it that lazy look of boredom he often adopted.

"came through the letter box. have you upset another nutter?"

"Probably. If I have, I didn't do it on purpose." Snorting, Sherlock dropped the book on the coffee table. John looked at the book again, interested this time,

"Saint Bartholomew? isn't that who the hospital's named after?"

"Yes, obviously. It could just be someone trying to make me fill my head with useless knowledge. No point."

"ok..."John sat down and drank half his tea in one long gulp, then got out his laptop and started typing up his next blog update. Sherlock sat upright and picked up the book again. He didn't realise, but from where he'd been resting his head, his hair was all fluffed up at the back. He flicked through the pages of the book, his expression never changing.

"Boring..."

"then don't read it. why not work on one of the cases?" John indicated to a pile of letter's of the coffee table.

"They're all boring. Really, have you read them? 'Dear Sherlock Holmes, can you help me? I think I might be haunted by a ghost! It keeps poking me in the middle of the night!'" He scoffed.

"_Please_."

"Ok, how about this one," he picked up the open letter he had found under the book.

"This women, Sara Tempier, says her son went missing a few days ago. _Could_ be a murder in it for you, Sherlock."

"I've seen that many times, boring. Give it to Lestrade." Sherlock closed the book again, staring at the cover. It had been unusually silent from Jim. Worryingly silent. He had been known to send Sherlock signs with books before - Grimm's Fairytales, for example._ Could this be another one? _John chuckled as he read some of the comments on his blog, slurping his tea noisily. Sherlock suddenly stood up, walked over the coffee table and towards his room.

"Get ready, John; we're going to St. Bart's."

"huh? what for?" Sherlock paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder.

"A sneaking suspicion." He said, then promptly disappeared into his room. John closed the laptop and held his face in his hands for a moment. His feelings were getting stronger, he now had to control his actions _all_ of the time, rather than just more intimate moments. He tried to compose himself but couldn't, so he walked quickly into his room and closed the door, silently crying as he put on his shoes. When he was back in control he wiped his face with a cold flannel to stop his eyes from puffing up and strolled causally back into the living room, leaning on his stick. Sherlock reappeared wearing his usual, except he'd decided to wear his purple shirt since he was so happy that some thing possibly _interesting_ was happening. As he passed his armchair he grabbed his coat and his scarf. pausing, he glanced John up and down. Immediately he decided to spare his faithful companion from knowing that Sherlock noticed a few droplets of water on his neck and the slight redness around his eyes. God knew John deserved that. _And so much more..._

"ready?" John walked ahead and down to the front door.

"Of course." He paused before adding, "Let me know if your leg gives you trouble, won't you?"

"I wont." John grinned ruefully at the detective, opening the door for him.

"I know," he sighed, tying his scarf. John climbed into a nearby cab, told the driver the address and waited for Sherlock. The detective slid in beside John and shut the door. Sherlock immediately fell into thought. What if this _was_ something from Jim? What would he do? He supposed he'd have to see what card Jim played. John looked out of the window as he usually did, but now mainly because he couldn't stand to be _this_ close to Sherlock _and_ talk to him, he would just end up blurting out his feelings. Sherlock glanced over at him. He still wasn't entirely sure what to think. What _did_ one do with their feelings? It was all very strange and new to him. For John the cab ride seemed endless. when they finally pulled over he paid the driver as quickly as he could and climbed out, holding the door for Sherlock as he usually did.

"Thank you," Sherlock said, touching John's shoulder lightly. He hurried into the hospital then simply stood by the Entrance, looking around thoughtfully. John smiled sadly to himself and followed, leaning heavily on the stick as he went up the steps. Sherlock waited for John. He'd already decided to go down to the morgue; he spent most of his time there when he was at St. Bart's, so perhaps there would be something there. John tried to catch up as he saw Sherlock waiting; he usually went ahead.

"Where to exactly?"

"The morgue," he replied shortly.

"Do you need me to slow down? Just say the word."

"No, don't worry, I know the way." John smiled and carried on swiftly, trying his hardest secretly to be faster. Sherlock kept pace with John anyway.

"Stubborn," he commented as they headed towards the morgue. John chuckled and carried on, opening the door ahead of Sherlock.

"Thank you," he repeated, offering John a tentative smile as he ducked under his arm. Moriarty had been chatting to molly and helping her with a vivisection when Sherlock entered, causing his oh so familiar grin to appear.

"Oh, hello Sherly. Haven't seen you in a while"


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: hey little ones, i decided to come out and play again, to dance just for you, so here is just a taster, a warm up of what's coming, because, my little darlings, **

**I O U**

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Sherlock had trouble reigning in his anger for a second. He wanted nothing more than to stride over to Moriarty and punch him for what he'd done to John. Instead, he merely nodded curtly at him. He'd been right, This _was_ to do with Moriarty. John was furious with Moriarty but decided to follow Sherlock's lead, anger would probably just make it worse. Molly looked up at the name 'Sherly'. Despite finding herself drawn to Jim yet again, her stomach did an odd little flip when she saw the detective.

"Sherlock," she stammered. Jim grinned at the pair silently before leaning a little closer over molly to reach for a scalpel, then made a long cut down the dead man's chest and stomach. Sherlock strolled through the morgue, simply wandering aimlessly.

"Fancy seeing you here." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Which name are you going by now then?" Molly frowned and gnawed on her bottom lip. _What did he mean _which_ name? _Jim smiled and looked back at Sherlock,

"Same as ever Sherly."

"Of course." Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"What brings you here?" He knew the answer to that question, but he wasn't sure how much Molly knew.

"Oh, just visiting a few.." his eyes flicked to molly and he smiled at her, a special curl of the lips he practised just for her, or people like her anyway...

"friends. You?" Molly flushed bright pink at that, but she also felt a stab of guilt from her feelings over Sherlock.

"Following something I received today. It was a curious parcel... a book, in fact."

"huh, that sounds like something out of a detective story." Jim chuckled, making it obvious molly knew very little, obvious it should stay that way..

"Well, I _am_ a detective, of a sort."

"yeah, I think you told me before..." Jim was concentrating more on guiding molly on how to remove the intestines of the corpse, leaning over he and holding her hands as he did so. Just thinking how easy she was to fool made him smile, how he had come back a few days ago, come straight to molly, making up some story of studying in a distant country. He grinned to himself as he remembered her lapping it up, taking his every word as a fact and accepting him completely, again.

"The only Consulting Detective, in fact." Molly flushed again, sure she was about to burst into flames. She glanced up at Sherlock; perhaps she couldmake_ him _jealous_? What if he already _was_ jealous?_

"oh, really? good for you..." Jim pretended he was preoccupied.

"Of course." _And for you_.

"I didn't know you were so... _close_ with Molly."

"yeah, well, we used to go out..." he trailed off on purpose as if he was upset she left him. Molly turned away, blushing and stuttering.

"W-well-"

"I never thought you'd be the one to end it, Molly. Odd.." Sherlock commented. Jim rubbed her arm soothingly,

"It was my fault really, but that doesn't matter, anyway..." Jim gave Sherlock a wink over Molly's shoulder before acknowledging John,

"hey, I heard you walked under a bus or something right?" John didn't want to reply, but Sherlock seemed to want to keep up the pretence, so...

"yeah, a few days ago. better now, though." he said the last few words flatly, pointing out that he was fine already. Well, as close to fine as he could be, but that wasn't the point... "oh, well that's good." Jim moved round the table and leaned against the end, the dead man's feet to either side of him. he hummed the detective's tune under his breath. Sherlock unconsciously moved closer to John, their elbows brushing together. He didn't say anything; he simply watched Jim. Jim's smile widened as Sherlock moved, sensing some new chemistry between them. Molly glanced between the three of them anxiously, but mostly between Jim and Sherlock. Sherlock didn't care for that smile on Jim's face. His eyes narrowed. Molly noticed this and frowned. _What was going on? _John turned to her, guessing she was confused,

"Molly, would you possibly get Sherlock some tea, he was just saying how well you make it." John knew how transparent that was, but hopefully she would get the idea. John was a kind man. Molly sent him a nervous smile, an _'Of course'_, and made her escape. Sherlock nudged John with his elbow subconsciously.

"Tactical, John." John smiled sheepishly and took a closer look at the corpse. Sherlock turned his gaze on Jim.

"Why are you really here? To continue the game, I suppose?"

"No, in fact I have some disappointing news." Once again, Sherlock ghosted towards John, but this time it was on purpose. He stood behind John almost protectively.

"Oh?" Jim raised an eyebrow, then continued,

"I cannot, unfortunately, give you your surprise."

"My surprise?" Sherlock couldn't help himself; he wound his arm around John's waist. Jim's presence was worrying him, especially so soon after the last game. He had no doubt that Jim was reading into his actions this very moment and, to be honest, he didn't care. He wondered if John was reading into them, too. John barely noticed the detective's actions however, he was now at the point where he had to bit his lip to stop his emotions pouring out. Jim's eyebrow shot a little higher, but he just gave John a wink and carried on.

"yes, your surprise, but don't worry, you'll have it _eventually_, just not as soon as I had hoped, something came up..."

"Oh, that's not a problem." Was that a slight look of concentration Sherlock could see on John's face_?_ _Hm_. Moriarty's eyes flicked to John,

"I have to go now Sherly, but I will see you soon, _very soon_." he promptly turned and left, going the same way as molly. Sherlock sighed.

"Thank goodness." Despite Jim leaving, he didn't let go of John, who sagged further on the stick.

"crisis averted?"


	17. Chapter 17: the interval

**Author's note: so here it is darlings, My final problem: the final chapter. here is your surprise, my dear, or part of it anyway. sianara sweetie,**  
**BB#**

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**P.S: noticed you guys are becoming restless, so here is a link to a little johnlock i was working on as well, some thing to entertain you.**

** s/8934607/1/uk**

* * *

"For now." Sherlock hesitantly wrapped his other arm around John, hugging him much like he had when he'd found him. John hesitantly hugged him back, secretly breathing in his smell, his warmth, memorising the way he breathed. Sherlock wasn't quite sure how to react or what to do, so he just rested his chin on top of John's head. After a few seconds John awkwardly let go and turned away, towards the door they came through.

"we might as well go home..." Sherlock looked after him, feeling slightly disappointed for some reason.

"I suppose..." John felt bad for walking ahead like that but he didn't want anyone to walk in on them, least of all molly. He walked straight out of the building and called for a taxi. Sherlock followed him, silent for once instead of wittering on about something. He was lost in thought over John.

John opened the door of the cab for Sherlock and climbed in, after giving the driver their address. Sherlock was still quiet. He tucked his chin into his scarf and slouched in his seat a little. John smiled at Sherlock to let him know everything was ok, then turned to the window as usual, but was everything ok? Sherlock couldn't work out what he was feeling. That odd sensation in the pit of his stomach was starting to irritate him, but only because he couldn't understand it. When the cab stopped John paid the driver and got out, holding the door for Sherlock. He got out, thanked John and waited for him by the front door. The feeling in his stomach lessened a little when he was close to John, but it wasn't _quite_ gone. He just felt... odd. John walked up the steps, quiet. He opened front door and walked straight up and into their living room. Sherlock closed the door behind him, took off his coat and scarf then stood there, looking a bit lost. It seemed John had presumed his general occupation of making tea. Sherlock watched him, feeling awkward.

"John," he said, then cursed himself. What was he going to say?

"yeah?"

"... I don't know." Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, sighing in irritation.

..."ok..."

"I'm sorry. I'm... confused."

"um...yeah, huh, me too." Sherlock wandered into the kitchen, his head tilted to the side.

"How?" John concentrated on the tea,

"I think you know Sherlock..." He did. Of course he did. He was Sherlock. It was one of the few times Sherlock had ever felt nervous in his life.

"Yes..." John took as much time as was possible making the tea, but eventually he had to turn round,

"so..." Sherlock moved through the kitchen, picking up various pieces of his science equipment and moving them. He might as well set up an experiment to give himself a reason to avoid John's eye.

"Well? If you have any questions do ask them."

"ummm..." John had no idea what to say, why was this so hard now, after holding it in so long?

"Eloquent," Sherlock commented.

"what about you..?" Sherlock looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"What about me? You mean my... 'feelings', correct?" He felt strange using the word.

"uh, yeah..." Sherlock sighed and focused on a test tube.

"I return them," he said simply, unsure what else to say. Inside, John was over the moon, but he suddenly realised he had no idea what was going to happen next.

"…?" Sherlock sniffed.

"Don't look at me, I don't know how to proceed. Do you think _I_ have ever felt like this before?" John laughed,

"well, neither do I..." John wanted to act as normal as possible so he went into the living room and onto his laptop.

"Mrs Hudson would be over the moon." Sherlock groaned.

"Oh, God. She'll start asking us when we'll be making a happy announcement."

"oh god. what about Lestrade?" There was a thud as Sherlock's head hit the table. John chuckled,

"shall we maybe not tell them? Anderson's face is going to stick in my mind otherwise..."

"Oh, for God's sake. That idiot will ruin everything," Sherlock growled, standing up straight again. He wrinkled his nose and rubbed at his forehead where he'd hit it on the table; perhaps that hadn't been one of his best ideas.

"Are you okay?" John couldn't stop laughing as he asked.

"Fine," he grumbled. John chuckled and turned back to the laptop, mainly because he was nervous. Sherlock huffed and set about gathering various chemicals.

"What does this make us?" he asked, pouring something particularly corrosive into a test tube carefully.

"I'm not really sure..."

"Helpful."

"hey, I don't have much experience either..."

"But you _have_ been in relationships before, unlike me."

"yeah, I suppose...I guess we're _boyfriends_?" The glass of the test tube clinked against the bottle; while he'd been expecting the term, it still surprised Sherlock.

"I suppose that's the correct name."

"hmmm"

"There's just one problem, John."

"oh?" he looked up. Sherlock gave up on the experiment he'd been using as a distraction and went over to the sink to wash his hands, leaving the chemicals out on the counter as per usual.

"Moriarty's going to have a field day."

"huh?" Sherlock dried his hands on a tea towel.

"At the morgue, he picked up on my behaviour. He knows that there's something between us, at least."

"oh, I doubt he'll do anything..." Sherlock's hands gripped the counter beside the sink.

"_Doubt he'll do anything?_ Don't be dense, John."

"I mean anything more drastic, he wouldn't just kill me, its not _fun_ enough."

"But now he knows he can get to me even more through you now." John blushed slightly.

"I suppose, but he would use me anyway I expect..."

"Undoubtedly." Almost hesitantly, Sherlock went to join John in the main room. He sat in his armchair, thankful again that Jim was no longer claiming it.

"But he'll know it will cause me more pain, therefore he'll enjoy it more."

"hmm..." John didn't really know what to say, this was _very_ awkward. The violin caught Sherlock's eye, but he didn't know if he wanted to play it - odd. If anything, he just felt tired, which was also odd. John checked the time; it was early, but he was tired.

"I think I might go to bed soon." he closed the laptop and sipped the last of his tea.

"Ah, so I'm not the only one, then." Sherlock got to his feet and went to get himself a glass of water to take to his room. He was completely unaware of the double meaning of his words. John chuckled at Sherlock's blunder, almost certain that he said it innocently. Almost. Sherlock paused in the doorway to his room.

"Goodnight, John. Sleep well."

"goodnight..." John walked up to his own room, smiling at Sherlock, who smiled a little in response.

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**As you may have guessed, My dear, this is the end. Well, not the ****_end_****, that will be in my next story, or the one after that, but a reprieve none the less. im going to keep this as ****_in progress_**** for now, as i will be writing a sequal to continue this story line but i might want to take thin in a new direction. once i have started it, i will add a final chapter to this, a little extra for those who just keep begging for more. like your surprise honey?**

**BB#**


	18. sianara

a message from your author ( i.e me),

hiya everyone, I'm here to explain myself and how this fics going to carry on. basically, I'm not going to lie here, I was really lazy and basically gave up on this, but have no fear, Im back!...little OTT there wasn't I...

Anyway, I've decided to contine this story line in Message Me, with the johnlock restarting in a different way there. Message Me starts from a different angle, but if you imagine it to be roughly 2 months after the last chapter of this fic, it shouldn't be too complicated. (just follow the link below to go straight to Message Me chapter one.)

s/8934607/1/Message-me

PM me with any Questions, and thanks again for reading my ramblings,

**BB#**


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